An Abridged Account
by alchemilla mollis
Summary: An Abridged Account of the Intimate History of Edward Cullen, as told to Bella Swan. Edward recounts a somewhat disastrous history of encounters with women through the 20th century, as Bella become more and more impatient to have an encounter of their own.
1. Chapter 1: First Kiss

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Hey Readers. I am so pleased this story has been reviewed and featured on a couple of cool websites, like the PPSS and The Little know Discerning Ficster. It was also a finalist in the 2010 Twific Indies. Thanks to all who keep tweeting and mentioning it. You're lovely.**

**Chapter 1: First Kiss**

"It was embarrassing. Awful actually," Bella winced and put her face into Edward's cotton shirt. "I didn't mean to say_ eww_ to his face. I just didn't expect his tongue."

"Poor kid," said Edward dryly; he felt more envy than sympathy. Edward could only use his venom-coated tongue with great care. "He probably didn't kiss another girl after that. You ruined him."

"Probably," she smiled. To Bella it seemed so long ago in another place, another time, another climate.

Bella and Edward were in her single bed on a summer morning, Edward above the covers and Bella mostly below – one bare leg sneaked out in defiance of Edward's usual rule. Charlie had gone to work and the sun shone uncommonly for a few hours in both front and back yard, so Edward had contentedly declared himself imprisoned in her house ... and they had yet to get out of her bed.

"So... what about _your_ first kiss?" Bella stretched languidly and Edward stole a glance at her breasts, soft and let loose under her t-shirt. "Tell me," she said.

"Um...no," he hedged. "I'd rather kiss you instead." He was on his side, his head propped on his elbow and he leaned forward and gave her a teasing, lazy kiss. He badly wanted to push his own tongue in her mouth - but for his teeth, _his teeth_, his damnable razor sharp teeth.

"Come on," she sighed against his chin. "You've lived so long...and you've told me so little. Your first kiss...was it before you were changed?"

"No, after." He pulled back a bit, looking into her eyes. "It's not a nice story," he said quietly.

"How old were you?" she prompted.

"Seventeen," he smiled.

She swatted his marble arm. "You know what I mean: _when_ was it?"

"1933," he remembered promptly. "May." Edward leaned back and looked at the ceiling.

**1933. Rochester New York. **

Edward took long strides down the empty corridors of his high school, feeling – for once – a bit pleased with himself. He had just completed his first entire year of school as a vampire, surrounded by humans and their tempting liquid cargo, without incident or suspicion.

Well, if you didn't include all the broken PE equipment. He wouldn't take_ that _class again.

It had even rained the day of graduation, and so he, Carlisle and Esme had all attended the human event. But now it was Saturday; Edward nodded to a lone janitor pushing a wide broom in the opposite direction.

Impatient to see Miss Harrow, Edward directed his ability toward the Music Annex, listening for her thoughts. There were a few other staff members still in the building, packing and sorting their things – but she would need help, surely. All those heavy percussion instruments.

He stopped mid-stride and focused. _Sheet music_. She was perusing sheet music but following other layers of thoughts as well. The effect of depression-era budgets on music education funding. Next year's curriculum.

_Edward,_ she thought.

He froze, elation and anticipation flooding through him. _THIS!_ he thought, this feeling must surely be what love is. A breathless, weightless, tingling sort of thing, that shoots from your core outward to the tips of your fingers and toes.

Her thoughts narrowed to him and him alone. She recalled a melody of his composition assignment; she pictured his face in concentration, his fingers on the keys; she wondered if she would ever see him again.

_YES_, he almost cried aloud in response. _You will, Miss Harrow. I am coming this very moment. _Now he moved at almost vampiric speed. His feet made no sound as they sped across the linoleum.

He was immature and foolish, despite his thirty-two years on the earth, and he refused to think about the consequences of this vague and giddy pursuit – the next-weeks and the next-years and what-about-forevers were questions that Carlisle asked, not Edward. Not yet.

"Edward Cullen," she acknowledged his arrival, smiling and shaking her head_._ _I think of him and he appears in my doorway_, she mused. She stared at his face for a moment and then looked away. "Did you enjoy graduation ceremonies?" she inquired now in a careful, neutral voice, but Edward was not fooled. He caught the blush on her cheek and the fluttering of her thoughts. Oh, and the tang of guilt too. She was twenty-nine, more than ten years his senior (or so she thought).

Usually, Miss Harrow suppressed her attraction with great self-discipline – sometimes he wondered if this is what drew him to her so. No one else seemed to try. Teenage girls harboured romantic, mostly benign fantasies about him– but the adults ... good Lord, Edward had been shocked to his Victorian core his first week of classes.

He would never get used to the daily mental assault he received from some of the teachers. Mrs. Talley, married, mid-thirties. She gave his entire body a fantasized feel-up every lunchtime, eyeing him lustily as he walked across the cafeteria. Up, down, up again. He could almost feel her hand on his ass.

There was the slightly younger and rounder Miss Rhodes, who promoted Shakespeare and Hardy during class but read dime store smut during her cigarette break. She pictured Edward as the virile hero of every story line. He had mostly blocked it out, until his first English exam, for God's sake, where he was trying to concentrate on Chaucer but instead received a mind load of images of himself with cravat and breeches, a fabric-straining erection, and Mrs. Rhodes floppy breasts in his face. So intense and violating were her thoughts that he could not construct a decent paragraph. He seethed and gritted his teeth, fighting a terrible urge to leap onto her desk and growl._**These**_ were the decent people? People whose company he had chosen over the depraved criminals he used to kill?

There had been many school days where sheer embarrassment had driven him to truancy.

But Miss Harrow and her piano lessons became his escape. He hadn't touched the keys since he was human, and both he and she were delighted to discover his forgotten talent. He began to spend lunch time at the piano, painstakingly moving his fingers at a human pace, and she would leave her younger pupils for a moment to comment or correct, or to suggest a new piece of music. He didn't know when his crush had come on, or whether her thoughts or his had driven it. Neither had acted inappropriately; not once had he touched her. He wanted to though, today. Just to brush his arm against hers if she might sit beside him at the piano...

She was grateful for his offer to help, and after a polite exchange of words he began to fold up the music stands and stack them on a wheeled trolley. He could feel her eyes on him and her thoughts running loose for the first time:

_I'm so glad he came today...such a kind offer...He couldn't possibly be interested... an old maid like me...He's very mature for eighteen... We've never been alone together... Does that boy not own a comb?_

Edward smiled inwardly at that one and stopped his hand just in time from running through his hair.

_...He is no longer my pupil, perhaps...perhaps... if only I had the nerve..._

_The nerve? _Edward almost repeated it aloud. (His most common mistake since rejoining the human world was to ANSWER their thoughts.)The nerve to...what?He straightened and turned, meeting her eyes.

_...surely it is a sin to want him, _she wondered. Miss Harrow returned his stare and swallowed, hard. _What would...what would it be like...to kiss him?_

It was all he needed to hear. In three quick strides he was in front of her; he took her upper arms in his palms and pulled her close, planting his mouth inexpertly on hers.

So soft! Soft and blood-fragrant and pliable. For almost a whole second her thoughts were blank, her mouth yielding, and Edward was in heaven.

_**Crack.**_A sound he knew all too well from his days as a killer. Bones snapping cleanly, like twigs. In his foolish excitement he had forgotten his strength. He had broken both her arms, just by squeezing them with his fingers.

_**8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8**_

"Oh my God," said Bella, covering her mouth with her hand. "Just like that."

"Just like that," he repeated. It was good, he thought, for Bella to hear this. He bore his strange eyes into hers, willing her to see past her misplaced admiration to the reality of his nature: _predator_.

She was sympathetic – and love-blind (and this subconsciously pleased him)– as usual. "God, Edward, how awful for you. "

"How awful for her," he added. "You can imagine her horror."

"Yes," she whispered. They were quiet for a few minutes; Bella ran her index finger slowly over the planes of his face. "But it was a long time ago."

But _oh, I remember it well_. He leaned into Bella's warm embrace and closed his eyes. He could remember Miss Harrow's face with complete accuracy: her shock, her pain. To Edward, her expression was an accusation - or maybe a confirmation - that he wasn't fit to live among humans after all. Breaking her arms in the act of a kiss was like a betrayal of all innocent, decent people.

"So what happened? Did she tell?"

**8*8*8*8*8*8**

They were assembled in the emergency room, just beyond her curtain -Edward, Carlisle, Sgt. Fallon and the principal. Edward paced, unable to meet Carlisle's eyes, unable to bear Miss Harrow's whimpers of pain and roiling thoughts of self-recrimination, as she spoke to the second policeman behind the curtain.

"The Tympani drum," she whispered in a tearful voice, "fell over when I tried to move it. Young Mr. Cullen here heard the noise; he pulled it off me."

Carlisle's eyes darted to Edward with relief._ She lies to protect you!_ Then the possibilities scrolled through Carlisle's mind, briefly touching on disappointment that Edward had failed to confide in him.

_She loves you? _asked Carlisle gently in his head._ You love her?_

"No...perhaps..."Edward shrugged his shoulders bitterly, responding in a vehement vampire murmur. "I have no idea."

He knew that when they got home, Carlisle wouldn't shout or raise a hand against him. He wouldn't accuse Edward of poor judgment or point out that they would probably have to leave Rochester imminently. Esme would be equally and ridiculously sympathetic.

Edward put his hands in his hair, hating himself. He would have preferred Carlisle's wrath to God's subversive punishments. You would think Miss Harrow would fear Edward now; that she would at least consider the terrible and unnatural possibilities. But no: she thought God was punishing **her** for desiring an eighteen year old. Shame rolled off her thoughts from behind her curtain. Edward had briefly touched her life, and he left an indelible recollection of sexual shame upon her.

Oh, he was a subtle master, God - mocking Edward, accusing him, making him feel like the shit that he was. Edward felt more wretched than ever.

**8*8*8*8*8***

"I never saw her again," he murmured, and Bella had to lean in to hear him. "We left Rochester soon after, once Carlisle turned Rosalie." Edward was almost certain that his failure with Miss Harrow had prompted Carlisle's decision to turn Rosalie.

"Miss Harrow probably doesn't even remember it now," Bella tried to reassure him. To Bella it seemed so long ago that it was almost irrelevant now – like WWI veterans or victims of the 1929 crash. All facts in a book, sometimes terrible and tragic, but now long devoid of their emotional impact. _Edward remembers all_, she had to remind herself. Both facts and feelings. She used to think this an advantage...

"Well, that's true only because she passed away in 1981," Edward answered her.

"Oh y-yeah –of course," Bella stammered, doing the math and feeling a little sick. Edward had loved a woman who eventually became an old woman. Who was dead now. _Who died before Bella was even born._ Bella suddenly felt quite desperate to convince Edward to turn her...and soon.

"She taught music until her retirement," he brightened a little bit. "So she must have influenced quite a number of students over the years. She never married though."

"Did you love her?" Bella blurted, facing him squarely.

He shook his head. "I didn't know her well enough to love her. It was a schoolboy's crush, Bella."

"But...how could you call yourself a schoolboy? You had... by then, you had...you know..."

"Murdered? Yes that's true. But..." he rubbed his chin, thinking. "It was like a time warp, my rebellious years. I was either alone or with the dregs of humanity. Discovering normal humans again was a pleasant surprise to me. I suppose..." he struggled to find the words, "it was like I was seventeen all over again. Socially, I was just a kid."

"I see," Bella frowned. Did Edward think she was just a kid, too? But she wasn't. She was eighteen in three weeks.

"Miss Harrow was too old for you, anyway," Bella said, sticking her chin out.

"Age doesn't mean much to me," he shrugged. "Within reason."

Bella absorbed this for a moment. "What did she look like? Was she pretty?"

Edward raised his eyebrows and gave her his crooked smile. "_I _thought so. "

"And...?" Bella pushed him on his back and lay on top of the cool length of him, the sheet tangling between them.

"Bella..." he warned, his voice croaking.

"...what did she look like?" Bella balanced herself on top of him, flexing her feet and placing her toes against his shins. He breathed in sharply.

"_Describe her,_" Bella insisted.

"Light brown hair, tall and thin, sharp features...I suppose she dressed like a spinster. But she was devoted to her students –and her mind was beautiful. To me. And you are driving me wild."

He gently rolled her off of him, but not before she thought she felt his erection. Right through the sheet and his jeans. If Edward was hard as stone, was _it_ even harder?

"Edward," she whined a bit, moving close again, trying to feel it once more against her abdomen. "You are so..." she sighed, "...predictable."

"Didn't that story teach you anything, Bella? I snapped Miss Harrow's bones. " But he didn't move away. She held him close, chancing a quick brush of her palm over his perfect, denim-clad butt and then tracing her thumb around until she found the tip of his hip bone. She made small circles with her thumb and tried to imagine it was the hard tip of something else.

He closed his eyes and she watched him breathe.

"Have you ever _tried_ to do it with a human?" she asked, curiously.

"Do _it_?" His voice was low and throaty. "Do what...have sexual intercourse?"

"Yeah." Bella nodded, trying not to laugh at his choice of words. No teen in this century says _sexual intercourse_.

He waited a long time before answering, and she panicked a bit, unsure if she really wanted to know the answer.

"Yes, I've tried."

She stilled her thumb. "And what happened?"

"That's another tale, for another day," he said firmly.

Another sad story, she wondered? Or because he thought her too young (or too...female?) to hear a story involving sex? He was SO proper sometimes.

"Hmph," she said, irritably. He didn't respond. She sat up and got out of bed, hopefully flashing her underwear at him when she stood up. She contemplated a shower. Maybe she'd walk back in there wrapped only her towel. No, naked – she'd walk back in there naked. Hah, that'd shock his Victorian sensibilities.

She stopped in the bedroom doorway. "I want..." she said, her back to him. "I want you to do something for me for my birthday."

"Oh?" he said, momentarily thrown.

"I want you to get UNDER the covers," she demanded. "The night of my eighteenth."

He made an amused sort of huff.

"Don't patronize me," she snapped.

"Okay, okay," he said. "Sorry."

"Agreed?"

He hesitated and she turned to glare at him.

"Okay," he agreed, his face turning serious suddenly.

"And no shirt either," she called out, disappearing into the bathroom. She did not specify whose shirt.

Bella shut the door. She turned on the tub's faucet, knowing it would be several minutes before the old water heater managed to do its job.

Ripping off her underwear and big t-shirt, she stared at herself in the mirror. Of course he had tried sex with someone before. He was over one hundred years old. Decades-worth of women had admired him and pursued him, as Jessica Stanley and Lauren Mallory had in the short time he had been in Forks. Multiply those girls times twenty different high schools and colleges. Beautiful vampires had probably attempted to seduce him too. Bella suspected there was some past history with that vampire Tanya, who Bella imagined to look a lot like Rosalie. All the Cullens seemed to tiptoe around the subject whenever Tanya's name came up.

She pushed her fingers into her hair and felt jealousy pluck at her heart. Bella had always revelled in the idea that he had waited for love, waited for _her. _That meant...he'd never been in love before? Or he'd never been successful in love before...? There was a big difference.

But he _was_ still a virgin. And he belonged to her. _Mine, mine, mine_, she mouthed soundlessly in the mirror, knowing that he would hear her otherwise.

She wrapped a towel around her torso, wrenched open the door, and stormed into her room.

"Bella," he gasped. She was pleased to see his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

"Who was it?" she asked fiercely.

"Who was... what?" He braced himself, like he was going to throw himself out the window in a single bound.

"The girl!" Bella took another step so that she loomed over the bed. "The human girl you tried to do it with. Her name. Her name and the year."

"Oh," his voice cracked. "Consuela. 1945." Then he clapped his hand over his nose, as he had the first day she met him. "Go," he said, pointing at the door with his other hand. "Pleeease..." It came out like a soft moan.

She stared at him and he stared right back. Then she saw it. Something jerk in his jeans.

_It moves!_ She thought. _It leaps all on its own!_ This was new knowledge to her. She had always assumed it was more like a _swelling_, like a pool float filling with air.

"Okay," she nodded, momentarily satisfied. She spun on her heel and went back to the bathroom.

_Jog on, Consuela_, she smiled. _This boy is mine._

_**8*8*8*8*8*8*8***_

_Reviews are what keep me writing. Feel free to comment._


	2. Chapter 2: It's not Natural

**A/N: Of course he doesn't take off his shirt and get into bed on her 18****th****, because Jasper attacks her and Italian adventures ensue. But discard all canon now, this story is all AU from here on! **

**Chapter Two: It's not Natural**

"You never told me, you know." She scooted in beside him on the piano bench.

"Never told you what?" He drew her close with his arm, as he couldn't get enough of her touch. Not since Italy.

"What was her name? Conuelos? Constantia?"

"I don't know what you mean," mumbled Edward, though he did. He rested his free hand on the keys, dabbled with a melody.

"Consuela," she remembered. "That was it."

"Uh, yes. Consuela."

**May 8, 1945 V-E Day Buenos Aires, Argentina**

Edward, Emmett and Julio lifted their beers from the table while Consuela leaned over and wiped it down with rapid, circular strokes. They couldn't quite see beyond the first button of her shirt but they all looked anyway.

"You're always spilling!" she complained to Julio, though her eyes were on Edward.

"Gracias, gracias, mi belleza." Julio stared, grinning all the while. "I apologize. I was mesmerized by your beauty from all the way across the room, and as I reached for my beer-"

"Yes, yes, Julio, you couldn't help yourself..." she trailed off good naturedly, turning away to attend to a rowdy table in the corner. _Still a virgin, Julio. Pobrecito (poor thing), _she thought and Edward had to suppress a smile.

"Did you see them, Ernesto?" Julio guffawed, getting Emmett's name wrong again. "Dancing in her blouse? My God, what tits! WHAT TITS. Maybe I should spill the beer again."

"Las veo," Emmett said loudly, as the noise of the tavern was on the rise. _I see them. But I've got a better pair at home._

Edward snorted into his glass. He watched Consuela's figure move through the smoky room. She scolded and flirted and tallied drink orders efficiently in her head. On her back, a thin "V" of perspiration glued her shirt to her skin.

"I think she likes your brother though." Julio smirked in Edward's direction. "We come here all the time, don't we Eduardo? For the tit view. The food though, it's not so good."

_That's convenient_ thought Emmett. He waited for Julio to blink, then Emmett and Edward discreetly switched beer glasses as Edward was nearer the potted bougainvillea. The plant didn't have a chance. It would be drowning by the end of the night, as Julio was in a generous mood. He was always trying to buy Edward food or cigarettes; it was Julio's way of expressing friendship.

"Drink up amigos!" shouted Julio. "I'm buying. It's a double celebration." He spread his arms wide. "One, we are soon to be doctors, Eduardo and I. Two, the Americans have whipped those fucking Nazis at last."

"To Doctors Eduardo and Julio!" hollered Emmett, raising his glass.

"Sí, Emelio! And to the Allies!" shouted Julio back into the noise. A nearby table of elderly men concurred, grunting and nodding with agreement.

"To Consuela's breasts," said Edward wistfully, his head and glass at a slight tilt.

"Tits, my good man, call them TITS!" cried Julio.

"To TITS," shouted Edward, and Emmett threw his head back and laughed. The adjacent table nodded again, muttering "to tits" and raising their glasses. Edward grinned and coughed, a little embarrassed. Edward and Emmett pretended to drink and, a moment later, Edward deftly manoeuvred the last of the liquid into the doomed bougainvillea.

Emmett had come to town only to celebrate Edward's end of exams, and they were just heading out for the evening when the news broke of Germany's surrender. Edward's classmates had poured into the streets and bars, using the foreign news as an excuse to get twice as drunk. Now _El Taverno del Perrito_ was rapidly filling with expat and refugee Europeans, gathering at the tables and the battered mahogany bar, toasting and shouting for yet another round. Elation, hope and desperate relief swirled in and around Edward's crowded head, but inwardly he couldn't help but mourn his own lost opportunities. Once again, he had been unable to help his country.

The sunlight, his strength, his need to feed – he couldn't possibly have faked it as a human in the armed forces. Of course the Volturi bastards had forbidden any involvement whatsoever. So, the Cullens had fled to South America: Edward to Argentina to study medicine, Emmett and Rosalie to Isle Esme, under the pretence of remodelling the bungalow but mostly to screw each other day and night, and Carlise and Esme to hole up in Costa Rica, doing good works of one kind or another.

Julio was waving his arms around now, trying to get Consuela's attention for another round. "Smile at her, Eduardo, that'll bring her over," he slurred. He picked up his beer glass and waved it in the air in random circles.

"Fucking Nazis," repeated Emmett, looking down and tracing his finger over the scratched table. Edward could read that Emmett, too, was feeling a bit melancholic.

"And still the Japanese to defeat," Edward reminded him. "It could be months still, before it's all over." _And I am stuck here in the dark, in the shade, useless_, he thought.

_There must be something we can still do, _Emmett spoke to Edward in his head, his thoughts in English.

Edward raised his eyebrows. "You think so?" he asked at Vampire volume. "Maybe discreetly? Secretly. "

_To hell with the Volturi_, thought Emmett. Edward saw some rudimentary plan take shape in Emmett's mind and he smiled. Rosalie wouldn't be pleased.

"Miren muchachos (look guys)," shouted Julio, pointing at a loud group near the piano. "Americanos, sounds like. See the two blondes? And the dark-suited fellow." He turned to peer at the brothers' faces. "Aren't you part-American?" This was a question a sober Julio had never dared to ask his roommate, as Edward sent out frightening vampiric vibes whenever Julio started to ask personal questions. Technically, Emmett, Edward and Carlisle were draft dodgers...law breakers.

"Of American ancestry," said Edward with only the slightest hardening of his voice. It was enough, though, and Julio wondered for the thousandth time how Edward could elicit sudden and inexplicable feelings of terror in an innocuous sentence. Julio wiped his sweaty palms on his knees and let logic tell him once again that his friend was a mostly – well nearly – normal roommate.

"And we've spent a few years there," Emmett added congenially and Julio relaxed again. Emmett wasn't as careful as Edward, after four years of living alone with Rosalie on an island. He blanched suddenly. "Jeez, Eduardo, are you going to put up with THAT?" He jerked his chin toward the piano.

The Americans had started singing and someone was attempting to play 'This Land is your Land' on the piano. Edward stood to watch. The American was a one-finger plucker.

"That's butchery! An affront to the Great US of A." Emmett clapped Edward on the back. "They need help, brother."

"But..." Edward glanced at Julio, who was staring at Emmett. _They ARE Americans, _thought Julio, however good their Spanish.

Emmett smiled at Edward. _Go on, Edward. You graduate next week anyway and will never see Julio again. Anyway, it's time to step up for our country. Whether at the piano or on the island of Okinawa. No more of this dodging shit. You and me – the Pacific, Dr. Edward?"_

Edward stood tall, feeling a surge of purpose and patriotism; then suddenly Consuela was there.

"More beer gentlemen?"

"Sí claro!" shouted Emmett, beaming at her. "Beer all around."

_Not a virgin,_ she thought.

_Jesus_, mused Edward. How can she tell?

"Consuela," he said, and she turned to him, her eyes sparkling. He realised he had never spoken directly to her before. "Would you do me a favor and bring mine to the piano please?"

_Virgin,_ she thought. "No problem, handsome."

By two a.m., the drunken patrons could no longer stand or sing. Edward had moved from _Yankee Doodle Dandy_ and _Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy_ through to George Gershwin and Cole Porter. He played requests from the Continent too, the French National Anthem and '_The White Cliffs of_ _Dover_', moving the room to tears. He managed to pick a Polish song out of the thoughts of an elderly Jewish couple. Strangely unsurprised, they toasted him with solemn dignity.

One of the American blondes had come on to Edward after his fourth song, but she had given up when he pretended that he didn't speak English. It annoyed her that he seemed to understand _song requests_ in English (and all-American ones at that), but didn't understand the sentence _hello my name is Lorraine_.

It was unprecedented for Edward to bring attention to himself, but his and Emmett's sudden decision was like a buoyancy drug. Edward didn't sing along; he just played, laughing every now and then when Emmett's voice rang out louder than everyone else's. Julio, Edward noticed, was no longer singing after midnight; the blonde was in his lap. _Good for you, amigo_.

Consuela had come to sit by Edward occasionally as the bar's patrons slowly staggered out, and now she was scooted up close, so that her epic breast jutted against his arm as he played, and her warm thigh made contact down the outside length of his. It gave him a terrible hard-on. "You're something different," she observed, "from the other medical fellows." He was playing Aaron Copland's version of the Shaker hymn 'Tis a Gift to be Simple' when she whispered in his ear, "I'm off work now. Let's get out of here."

Edward took a breath and missed a note. Her intentions were clear. She had been picturing them together for the last hour.

Was this it? Finally? He was going to experience the act that consumed the thoughts of men the world over? The act that consumed his own thoughts, when he lay under the stars in the long grasses of the Argentinean Steppe, sated with bovine blood but desperate for soft and womanly flesh beneath him?

He didn't examine the decision too carefully; he knew he'd balk if he did. Like any seventeen year old male, he_ just wanted to get laid_. "Yes." Edward looked into her eyes. They were brown.

"Meet me out back," she whispered and she slipped off the bench. Edward invented a quick and creative ending to the song. It was anything but hymn-like.

"Swell performance." Emmett grinned, appearing over the top of the piano. "Top drawer." He gave Edward a look of pride that Edward had only seen on Carlisle's face before.

Edward gave a little bow without standing up. He was painfully aware of his hard on.

"I'd better go work on Rosie..." Emmett furrowed his brow. "It'll take some persuasion. Meet me in a week, after your graduation? At the dock. I'll look into transport."

"Best not tell Carlisle," Edward managed to say. Carlisle was true pacifist; he would attempt to dissuade them.

"Nor Esme," agreed Emmett. "And Edward..." he whispered, tapping his finger on top of the piano thoughtfully. "Girl on top, I'd recommend. Your teeth far away from her pulse points. No kissing, no hard surfaces like the wall. Don't grip her – too dangerous. Let her do the work."

Edward couldn't meet his brother's eyes. He only nodded, his fingers curling and uncurling on the ivories. "I'm ..." _Afraid of hurting her, _he wanted to say. The ghost of Miss Harrow's face rose in his mind. "I'm..."

"Scared shitless?" Emmett rested his hand on Edward's shoulder. "It's time to try, brother. You can't live like this. Celibate and all. It's not natural. Go." He jerked his thumb toward the door. "She's waiting."

**8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8***

"So you and Emmett went to Japan?" Bella exclaimed.

"That's right."

"And fought in World War II?"

"Unofficially." Edward smiled. "Illegally, you could say."

"Wow." She shook her head. "Why haven't you told me this before?"

"I don't know. It hasn't come up in conversation." Edward started to play Aaron Copland's Appalachian Spring, his fingers moving across the keys almost absent-mindedly. "We did covert missions of our own choosing, like freeing Allied soldiers from Japanese POW camps, disabling artillery, mind-reading General's plans and informing the Allies. They never figured out who was helping them. We didn't kill anyone, surprisingly."

"That's huge, Edward. Huge." She put her arm on his shoulder and threaded her fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck. "I wish I knew everything about you," she murmured. "And your amazing life. Were you still there when the atomic bomb was dropped?"

"Yes." He frowned. "It was horrific. Ironically, we ended up helping with Hiroshima victims. For almost three months. They didn't care what nationality we were. Radiation doesn't affect us, you know."

She was silent for a while and Edward hoped that maybe he had redirected the topic completely.

"So, give it to me."

"Give you what?"

"The rest of the story. Consuela the barmaid."

"Oh that," he said, bending his head and playing Copland with a little more vigor.

"I _do_ want to hear about you and Emmett in Japan_...later_." She pulled his head toward her and nuzzled his ear; he managed to keep playing. "You are SO not getting out of this," she said determinedly, and he gave a little snort. "Tell me."

"It's just...well..." He stopped his song. "You'll think badly of me." He frowned.

"So? You're always trying to get me to think bad things about you. That you're morally bankrupt or going to eat me any moment. You're a terrible person...and you don't even brush your teeth."

"I don't need to."

"I KNOW. It was a joke, Edward." She wrapped her arms around his waist and put her face into his bicep. "It helps me to know what you can and can't do. And we can plan...and take precautions."

Edward's jaw dropped a fraction. How sensible and blunt his Bella could be. "Ah," he said at last, for lack of a better response.

Perhaps Bella was ready now to hear this story, without jealousy or girlish distaste. It was almost a year since she had come storming out in nothing but a towel and had asked about Consuela. The events in Italy, their months of separation, and even the meddlesome werewolves had matured her in new ways.

She was still a bit naive about men, though. The double standard of 1945 was surely different from today's prejudices, but still... Men were selfish and helpless creatures, too easily undone when a fine pair of breasts presented themselves. Edward was as guilty as any human male.

Did she even know about all the obscene and heavenly ways men and women could connect? Fingers, mouths, and genitals in various combinations? Of course she did – it was the 21st century.

Perhaps he'd give her an abridged version.

**8*8*8*8*8*8*8***


	3. Chapter 3: Somethin' Different

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Chapter 3: Somethin' Different**

"Come here, guapo (handsome)," Consuela smiled. She was sitting on a wooden beer cask, her shoes dangling on the ends of her toes. The moonlight made her blouse glow a blue-white. She began to unbutton it.

Edward swallowed, still a good five feet away. "Wait. I... this is..."

Her heart beat at a normal rate; there was no fear in her mind, no instinctual urge to flee. He wondered when it would kick in; he would feel gutted if she rejected him now.

"Come," she said soothingly. Her blouse fell behind her.

Oh my God. They were luscious, even when cased in an industrial-strength bra. It seemed to take a million years for him to walk the three steps at human speed; then they were right in front of him. He sighed and ran his fingers across the topmost exposed skin. She shivered.

He wanted to apologize for his cold skin, but he was afraid his voice would break like a boy's.

"Ohh. You're like a cool glass of water," she whispered, marvelling that his hands felt so clean and sweat-free. She liked it. _She liked it!_ Encouraged, he dipped a finger below her bra and wondered if he would be able to distinguish her nipple. Oh my God, yes he could. _Yes. _Impossibly, his dick hardened further in his trousers. She lowered her shoulder straps and pushed down the cups with some effort. Edward simply gaped. "There," she said, "all yours."

"Oh thank you, _thank you_," he groaned in a rush of gratitude. He buried his face into her cleavage and cupped her damp, bare breasts in both palms. She giggled a bit, but he was too overwhelmed to be embarrassed.

"Consuelaconswaaaaayla..." he pressed them together and carefully ran his tongue along the "seam". She put her fingers in his hair and sighed.

_Surely,_ he thought, _oh surely Consuela_ was _the most generous and wonderful woman in the entire universe_. _Ever._

At that moment he knew that he loved her, that he would carry her away from this sordid stinking tavern and head to Isle Esme, where they would live in a state of continuous sexual activity. Consuela would delight in scolding him and serving him drinks on the shaded veranda, and he would pretend to drink them before ripping off her bra and skirt and plunging himself into her, body and soul.

"Well!" she said, "I'm thinkin' you're ready." She laughed and wrapped now-bare feet around his waist to pull his hips toward her, which he had kept just out of reach.

"Oh. Oh God," he emerged from her nipples and his euphoria. "Wait. We can't do this here." _Standing up? Against a wooden beer cask?_

"We're alone, _inocente_," she cooed, working her skirt up between their bodies. "Nobody's around."

"No, it has to be on a bed," he panted. "_Where is your bed?"_

And then he saw it all in her mind. Why she only brought virginal young men behind the tavern, why she was so particular, why she never kissed them on the lips, or took them to her one-room apartment.

Once upon a time she had loved a boy, a medical student, to whom she had given her heart and her virginity. They'd made love countless times in her bed, and he had promised her the world. But the boy was from an upper-class family; she was an uneducated waitress of some vague indigenous heritage. In the end, just before graduation, he had hurt her to ease the pain of leaving her, calling her a slut and an ignorant low life. Years passed and his accusations became a fulfilled prophecy; she had become a slut of sorts, regularly choosing men that reminded her of the innocent, idealistic young student she had once loved. But she took none of them to her apartment, nor to her bed. She wouldn't kiss them because she didn't love them.

**8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8***

Edward paused. He turned to look at Bella. Her brown eyes were wide, her face was a little flushed. Was she disappointed in him?

"I am sorry. I was a chauvinistic ass."

"Oh. Were you?" She wrinkled her brow, the middle flesh puckering in that way that he liked so much.

"You're a modern, liberal woman, Bella." He considered her with surprise. "I thought it would offend you that I was taking advantage of her loss, that I was only perpetuating her bad reputation. I didn't court her, I didn't take her on a date or even buy her a drink. I was just another self-absorbed, randy youth."

Bella laughed. "Oh, Edward. Has it never occurred to you that she was taking complete advantage of you?"

He blinked. "Well, I am the man. Whose reputation - via Julio's big mouth - at the college would only benefit from a promiscuous 'conquest', and she was the local...you know."

"Slut, yeah. You've taken the double standard and turned it against yourself!" Bella held her hands up, waiting for him to comprehend. "Consuela was in complete control of the situation. She knew exactly what she was doing. The where, the when, the how. The who: YOU," Bella poked him in the chest with her finger. Then she rubbed it, wincing.

Bella suddenly realised she was going to be disappointed if he next told her he had walked away. She rather liked the idea of him losing control and being lost in a haze of lust. If only she could match Consuela's audacity: whisper _meet me out back_ in his ear. Then without any regret or inhibitions they would do it behind the Fork's Diner. The thought almost made her giggle.

"Oh. Hm." He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling a little unsettled. "I guess I never thought of it that way before."

"Consuela chose you; _got _you." Bella nodded. "Clever girl." Bella failed to suppress the envy in her voice.

He looked down at Bella, astonished how she could change his decades-old perspective with a few sharp sentences. "You're pretty clever yourself," he murmured. "I love you."

"I know." She smiled. "Now the rest of the story."

_Yeah, the rest. Definitely abridged. _

**8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8***

"I cannot wait that long," Consuela lied. "I want you now." Just not in her bed.

Edward tried to gather his lust-addled thoughts. He saw that his usual persuasive vampire's charm had no purchase here. Too many times he and Julio had sat in the tavern and witnessed Consuela reject a silver-tongued admirer. She favored the awkward, the fumbling, the shy.

"Please," he whispered, "I don't know what I am doing." This was no lie, despite the fact that he'd seen it in the minds of others a million times. "Teach me properly, in a bed."

"I'll show you what to do," she said firmly, hiking her skirt over her thighs and scooting up to the edge of the barrel. Her underwear was pink and wet. He forgot again about the bed.

"Let me touch you," he pleaded, and she removed her hands from his belt to look up at his face. She stared at him, perhaps really seeing him for the first time. _So pale, so beautiful_, she thought, her heart breaking a little. His expression – aching, anticipating, earnest – was sincere and before she knew it his finger had slipped beneath the elastic of her underwear, while the other hand supported the small of her back.

"Oh!" she cried. His touch was cold and... well, delicious, on a hot and humid night.

Suddenly Edward remembered his advantage. _He knew what women wanted_. He had heard their silent complaints, their dissatisfactions with husbands and boyfriends. They wanted a man to touch them, _down there_ – but not as a mark of their enlightened sexual prowess ("Yeah, I fingered her," men would say casually to one another, and Edward could read that the 'fingering' had lasted no more than a minute), but as a gift of attention. It took time and patience and skill to bring a woman to orgasm, much longer than a man, and _most men didn't even get that_. Perhaps Edward had no skill, but he was determined to give Consuela something back, something different from all the other equally lucky bastards who had been right here between her legs, thoughtlessly taking all they could get. All these ideas rushed through his mind in a matter of milliseconds.

Blindly, he experimented. Getting _in_ there wasn't as important as what you did _around_ there, as what preceded your arrival, finger or dick-wise. It was like...playing the piano? No...like a classical guitar. How you dragged and pressed and probed your fingers made all the difference to the quality of sound. What a strange and complicated instrument, he thought, straightening his finger for a while and then curling the tip again. His breathing matched hers, becoming and more ragged.

He watched her face, mesmerized by the expressions and cries he could elicit with his fingers. Speed did not gain points, he decided. Slow and slick. _Patience_! he chided himself - except that his dick was about to rip through his trousers. At last, he dipped in (so _there_ it is!), pushing again and again and _deeper_ and was soon rewarded with her climax. He was fascinated by her face, her breathing, and her mind, which briefly resembled something akin to spots of colour. No over-analysis, no worries, no guilt. He felt an odd flash of pride when he could read that, for the first time in years, the one tragic love of her life was erased from her mind, even if it was for just a moment. Her head fell back in a swoon, and he caught her. In another second, he had withdrawn his fingers, spread her shirt over her chest and scooped her into his arms. She was limp and smiling; she put her head against the crook of his neck. He watched her blood pulse at her throat.

"Diiiiiios mio (my God)," she exclaimed softly. _I just might repeat this one, _she thought.

"Which direction?" he asked the token question, though he could see in her mind exactly where she lived.

"You're so strong," she answered instead, her thoughts a bit foggy. She was a relatively heavy girl, but he carried her effortlessly less than a block, then up a flight of stairs. She began to recover and even giggle a bit – "put me down!" – by the time he had carried her to the landing and managed to get the key from her pocket.

"You're really somethin' different," she said, running her finger along his jaw. "Sure you're a virgin?"

"_HOW_ do you _know_ that?" he had to ask. He placed her on the bed. It was a single straw mattress, small and sweet smelling.

"By the way you always look at me," she answered simply, her voice going soft, and he felt suddenly nervous again. He stood abruptly, then remembered how obvious his erection must be.

Her eyes, fixed on his, were sweet and a little sad. She fleetingly thought of her first and only love.

"What's your name?"

He almost choked. "You don't know my name." He found this a terrible blow to his humming ego, newly triumphant after his finger-sex success.

"No," she shook her head and then unclasped her bra entirely this time.

"Edward," he croaked, forgetting to say 'Eduardo'.

"Come on then. Get yourself inside me, Edward." _Straight to it,_ she thought. This wasn't due to impatience or a desire to have it done and finished, but instead a long familiarity with young men and their timing. She hardly ever touched them intimately, as she knew it might end everything too soon, ruining their oh-so-important rite of passage.

He stood there, never more uncertain. His sense of propriety made a last stand, warring with his aching, lonely body.

She shimmied out of her skirt and underwear. She leaned back on her hands. Her bare, brown skin was perfection in the lamplight, but it was her smile, warm and lovely, that tipped his decision.

_OH GOD._ He surrendered with a low feral noise, falling onto the bed. His hands moved madly over her body, up and down and around, while she fought to unbutton his shirt and unzip his trousers, assiduously avoiding a brush against his erection. She pushed the fabric to his ankles; he still wore his shoes.

Miraculously, he remembered Emmett's advice: girl on top. He had lost his entire Spanish vocabulary though, so he simply rolled and pulled her on top of him.

"Me on top?" she laughed once again. "You're somethin' different." She pushed away from his chest and then placed each knee on either side of his hips, positioning herself.

_I love you_, he wanted to say, as it seemed the right and proper currency for the gift of her body. Another part of him wanted to say: _I'm going to bite you now. _He gripped the mattress, anticipating.

She reached down to guide him in. The moment her warm fingers wrapped around his cock, he twitched. That's all it was, a minor buck of his hips.

_Wha..?_ He thought. _Where...?_

She flew. Right over his head and across the room. Her head hit the hard stucco wall with a dull, sickening thud. And the delicious iron smell of blood filled the air.

_Consuela. _

**8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8***

Thanks for reading all the way to this point, particularly when the whole chapter involves an original character . It's all Bella/Edward next chapter though.

Reviews are as lovely as lovely as Edward's fingers. ;)


	4. Chapter 4: Come Here, Handsome

Author's note: Don't forget, this is AU. They are not engaged.

Thanks to my Project Team Beta gals, Angel and Kristi.

**Chapter 4: Come here, Handsome**

They had set off for the meadow, hopefully not for the last time; but it might be years before they would get the chance to come here again, to their favorite private place, the place where it all began. Tomorrow, Bella would depart for Jacksonville for the last two weeks of summer. Dartmouth's starting date loomed.

Bella's delicate fingers were intertwined in his cold ones, and he carried a guitar in its case in his other hand. The day was dry and lovely; sunlight filtered through the trees every now and then, catching Edward's face and bouncing back straight to her retinas, it seemed.

"I haven't told you how pretty you look today." He beamed down at her, loving her with every fiber of his being. "I like seeing your legs. Did Alice coerce you into this outfit?"

"_No_," she retorted, touching her skirt. "I picked it all out myself. _By_ myself." Including the crazy bra thing, which she was beginning to regret. It had no support or thickness, and she wondered if her nipples were apparent. She thought Edward might have noted something too, as he seemed to be glancing down at her chest every thirty seconds. Vampire, human; men were all the same.

"How's the packing going?" Bella asked, squinting up at him.

"I'm not packing yet – that won't take more than a day. It's the_ negotiating_ that takes time. Rosalie is pretending not to remember that I bought the Velvet Underground CD, etcetera, etcetera—" he rolled out the word on his tongue, "—and Jasper has his eye on a lot of my books."

"Why ARE you bringing all that stuff to Dartmouth? How big is the house?" The idea of being together in a Cullen-like mansion in New Hampshire unnerved Bella a bit. Maybe spending her freshman year in a dorm was a good idea after all. At least in the daytime...

"Well, the family will have to leave Forks before too long. I don't need to burden them with my possessions," he shrugged his broad shoulders. "Anyway, I like my music and books around me. We'll ship the piano later this month."

"Oh my God, the piano too. Okay." She laughed. "You guys are so over the top." Then she abruptly tripped over nothing more than an exuberantly large fern. He caught her around the waist one-handed and up righted her, chuckling.

"Sandals up to the meadow? You never wear sandals."

"True." She blushed, fearing he might guess her plans somehow. She had painted her toenails too. Burgundy to match.

"Maybe I should carry you," he said, catching her again just before a tree root would have sent her sprawling.

Bella removed a bit of moss stuck in her sandal strap. "But you've got the guitar today."

"No problem. I'll just be holding on to your...uh...ass, instead of both your knees."

Her face broke out in a smile. Edward had said 'ass'. Maybe this was an acknowledgement of her maturity, of her departure from high school. Her secret wish was to hear him say 'fuck', even if in anger. The idea made her feel weak at the knees for some reason. She would settle for an amused or surprised 'well fuck me'. Emmett had hinted once that Edward had a rather ribald sense of humor, when out of mixed company, but she couldn't imagine shallow, sophomoric jokes falling from his lips.

"Climb on," he said, bending his knees. Glad that her skirt was full, she was able to clench her knees around him without the hem riding up too high. He used one arm behind his back to support her, and then put his palm right on her ass.

"Nice," he said, and she giggled, feeling giddy.

"Now you'll have to marry me," he joked.

"Not funny." She narrowed her eyes.

Less than thirty seconds later, they were there. He lowered her, and she discreetly adjusted her panties, which seemed to have utterly useless elastic. Her butt cheek felt cool and tingly now. They moved to the edge of the clearing.

"Damn. Someone's here already," she muttered. There was a picnic basket and a large blanket spread under the craggy branches of a cypress. The grass was so long this time of year, she wondered if someone was lying down there, just out of sight.

"Nope," Edward said gleefully, rocking on his heels. "That's us. _For us_." He had surprised her -again - with his romantic gestures. "A goodbye-to-the-meadow picnic."

"Excellent." She laughed, taking his hand. She pulled him over to the blanket and they sat down, facing one another and kicking off their shoes. Edward removed his phone, his ever present warning system, from his pocket and set it upright on the blanket. A quick rummage in the basket revealed cheese, figs, two dark green bottles and two glasses. No paper plates, of course. It was all linen napkins and crystal.

"Esme?" she asked, peering at the plump and slightly unfamiliar fruit.

"_No_," he said playfully in the same voice she had used a minute ago. "I assembled it myself. By myself. The figs are from that little organic grocery in Port Angeles."

"Um, Edward," she said, picking up a bottle with an elegant French label. "This is _wine_. I'm underage. Technically so are you."

"Pshh," he waved his hand away. "In Europe you'd already be developing opinions on varietal reds by now."

She raised an eyebrow. "_I'm a cop's daughter_."

"I brought Washington State's finest organic Apple Juice as well," he offered, holding up the second bottle, but he made a face at it. It was one of those cloudy, unfiltered juices. "Very healthy I'm sure."

"Hm," she said, torn. She picked up the crystal goblets. "And..._two_ glasses?"

"Yeah, we need practice, faking a dinner date." He began to uncork the wine, grinning slyly at her. She decided not to protest. "You take a couple of sips, and then we switch glasses, so it looks like I'm drinking too."

"But why would we bother?" she asked. "We'll just stay in and I'll cook for myself. It's not like you get to enjoy it."

"I'll enjoy it if you do," he answered, pouring. "It's a pleasurable part of human relationships, isn't it? Good food and atmospheric restaurants. Alcohol, once you're twenty-one. You shouldn't miss out just because you've chosen me."

"Okay." She rather liked the idea of the two of them cosseted in a picturesque New England restaurant, which she imagined to have clapboard siding and fake seaside paraphernalia tacked to the walls. "So I get two glasses of wine?" she realized. "Cool." _Liquid courage_, she thought. _I might need it today._

"You get the whole bottle, my bonnie Bella, if you want it." There was no fatherly warning about drinking on an empty stomach or about pacing herself, which she appreciated. He handed her the delicate crystal glass. She hoped she wouldn't break it.

"To our meadow," he said, raising his glass.

"To Dartmouth. And our cross country trip," she added, yearning for Edward in a darkened, generic hotel room with a king-sized bed.

"To complete privacy, with no disapproving fathers snoring in the next room. No offence to Charlie," he said politely.

"None taken. To complete privacy, with no super-hearing vampires nearby. No offence to your family."

"None taken."

"To you."

"And to you, Bella."

She took a big, un-ladylike gulp, then remembered that she should sip it. He stuck his nose in as far as he could, bending his head forward.

"What are you doing?" she laughed at him.

"Sorting its ingredients...the nuances of this particular grape cultivar. It's oak barrelled. Some kiwi-like influences, maybe..."

"Show-off." She took a small, sophisticated sip, trying to find kiwis and oaks. "All those smells...yet it tastes like...dirt?"

"Like nothing at all actually." He swirled his glass. "Odd, isn't it?"

"But blood has flavor. Not just scent?"

"Oh, yes. Oh, oh yes." There was a hungry sound to his voice. His head was down, as if he were scrutinizing the color of the wine, but he was watching her through his lashes.

"And does blood's scent and flavor vary, say, if I ate blueberries for breakfast one morning and yogurt the next?"

"Well..." He smiled, looking somehow both mischievous and a little feral. He rose to his knees and leaned over her, balancing himself with the fingers of one hand beside her hip. "Hold perfectly still," he whispered, moving in close. He pushed his nose up along the length of her neck while inhaling deeply. Then, surprising her completely, he licked her: starting near her collarbone, then running his tongue slowly up the side to her ear. Electricity shot straight to her nether regions, enough to dampen her new purple underwear.

He pulled back and sat down again. "This morning you had one cup of coffee, black, no sugar, and a bowl of Raisin Bran. And 1% milk."

She crossed her arms over her chest, still holding her glass. "You're full of it." She called his bluff. "That's what I have every morning, and you know it."

He put his head back and laughed. "Oh _Bella_. I no longer dazzle you, do I? You're becoming a woman. A smart one, too." He did actually smell raisins though. His throat burned; he probably shouldn't have licked her.

"I'm no more intelligent this year than before." She tossed her head, hiding a smile.

"True, okay, poor choice of words... how about _savvy_? You're a savvy young woman now."

Bella liked that description. Savvy. "Is that why you're treating me differently?" she asked, looking down and fingering the stem of her glass.

"Am I?" he asked, surprised. He reached out to switch glasses. "Maybe I am. Well, you're almost nineteen." He gathered her fingers in his other hand. "And you impressed me with your reaction to ...um...Consuela."

It was more than Consuela though. Their debate about turning Bella into a vampire had taken a more reasonable tone as of late. Bella had begun to look at the pros and cons a little more practically. Recently even Rosalie had acknowledged Bella's blossoming maturity – in true Rosalie fashion, with flippant, disguised compliments here and there.

"Oh." She straightened. "I...I admired Consuela a little." _Enough to copy her, _thought Bella.

"You didn't giggle once. Or overreact, or respond with jealousy—"

"I can't deny I wasn't envious," she pointed out.

Edward frowned. "Surely you don't envy a _concussion_."

"Well, she didn't die, you'd said. And she married and had eight children and became a fat old grandmother." She looked at him sideways. "And now you're wanted for assault in Argentina."

He was a fugitive from justice. This excited Bella in some perverse way. Hah, maybe because she was a cop's daughter.

"Yes." He flinched. "That is all correct, though I imagine my police file has been dusty and undisturbed for some time now."

"You...you didn't love her...did you." It was a statement, not a question.

"Maybe for all of two minutes." He tried to chuckle, but it wasn't real. He did not want to talk about Consuela. He had run away like a madman, overwhelmed by the scent of her blood, only stopping to alert the local hospital. He had let down Julio, who had always believed Edward a good person – up until the moment police hauled Julio in for hours of questioning about his roommate. Edward had not been awarded his medical degree, obviously. He would have three medical degrees, not just two, otherwise.

"Except her breasts," Bella chortled, releasing Edward's hand to cover her mouth a moment. "You loved her breasts." Bella worried her own breasts would disappoint him. She had dressed them well today though. Would a sexy fabric compensate for size?

"I'm only a man," he returned uncomfortably, opening his palms.

"_My man_," she said, almost to herself. The wine was making her a little lightheaded.

"Utterly and completely." He smiled. Bella believed in his goodness; she loved him. He relaxed again and leaned forward, going in for a kiss.

She suddenly moved the glass to her lips. Amused, he stilled himself – waiting. Avoiding his eyes, she reached around him and switched glasses again. Both glasses were over half empty now.

"_Kiss_ me," he urged, brushing his nose against hers. He was hoping that they might take their physical relationship a little further today, just a bit...as long as she was amenable...second base maybe? She was, well, _bouncy_, in that pretty blouse, and her clearly defined nipples were pointing at him, calling him to the task_. _

_Ask permission? Or just go for it?_

She momentarily pressed her lips to his. "Will you play for me?" she blurted into his face, a little too loudly. "The guitar?" she added, unnecessarily.

"Uh...yes," he said, blinking at her. He drew back again. "Okay." Maybe today wasn't the day after all. A gentleman wouldn't take advantage of his sweetheart when she was tipsy.

He opened the case and lifted his old double-0 eighteen Martin guitar onto his lap. He played softly, picking out a mellow tune. Bella listened; she shook her head. He was good – of course. She carefully plucked a dusky fig out of the basket; it felt like it would bruise easily. She set it in her lap, in the scoop of her skirt, not quite sure what to do with it.

"What song is that?" she asked, watching his long, elegant fingers move across the strings.

"I don't know; I'm making it up as we speak. Meadow Muzak," he joked.

"It's nice," she said. She watched the patches of sunlight play over Edward's multi-bronzed hair as the breeze shifted the branches above them. His shirt collar was skewed a little by the guitar, so that the muscles and tendons of his neck emerged in a pale line from his shoulder. The hair on his chest was dark auburn, she noted. She'd like to see his chest under circumstances less stressful than Volterra – she'd hardly had a look at it then. She took a deep breath and said, "You look really sexy. Playing the guitar, that is."

"Do you think so?" He raised an eyebrow. Was this the wine talking? She had never told him he was sexy before. Handsome, good-looking, dazzling, whatever. Never _sexy_. There was something in her eyes: determination. She put down the wine glass and inched up closer, so that her knees touched his. She arranged her skirt over her lap, rolling the fig around. There were no wayward views up her skirt, disappointingly.

She ran a finger over his knee and down the front of his shin. He wished he had worn shorts.

"Play something difficult for me," she requested. "Something difficult...but romantic."

"Hm. A challenge." He nodded, wishing he knew what the hell was going on in that head of hers. He caught a flash of wine-purple trim beneath her neckline. Uh, _think_.

He recalled a song he had picked up during his self-imposed exile in Brazil, only last year. A classical guitar would suit it better, but he could manage with his Martin acoustic. The tempo was slow, but it required a good deal of skill to capture the sensuality and layered timbre of the piece. Surely he would get a kiss after this. He began, focusing his mind on good technique.

She ran her finger down his shin again, this time stopping to draw circles on the side of his bare foot in time to the music. He shuddered. A minute ago she wouldn't kiss him, but now she was going to give him an erection with only her forefinger on his foot.

She was artless; she had no idea how easily she could turn him on.

Bella began to sway, the Latin music and wine making her feel sexy now. She stretched out her arms to the side, wiggling her fingers in the air and smiling with half-closed eyes. The breeze caressed her face; she had never felt as happy as she was now, _here_, knee to knee with the love of her life.

Bella giggled, embarrassed because he was watching her with a rather intense expression. She dropped her hands back to her lap and picked up the fig, turning it gently.

_Ah, you peel it?_ she wondered. Suddenly aware of her own fingers (she had painted her nails, dark and daring), she lifted the fig and pulled it open. It was a strange fruit, she thought, biting her lip.

"_Eat it_," he commanded, and she looked up, startled by the huskiness in his voice. His eyes, a maple syrup gold, positively smoldered at her through his lashes. He continued to play, as beautifully as ever.

"Eat it," he whispered, and she felt a thrill rush through her body. Her eyes fixed on his, she put the fig to her lips and bit into it slowly, sucking lightly on the flesh. He faltered then, the tempo hiccupping; his jaw fell open a fraction and his fingers slowed.

"Don't stop!" she cried out. Surprise was an important factor in her plan, or she would completely lose her nerve. He must be distracted by the music_. _Sidetracked by a fig, damn it.

"Okay!" Edward replied in a similar voice of alarm, returning to tempo. The smolder was gone, replaced by bemusement.

She swallowed the bit of fig and rose to her knees. "Don't. Stop," she said again. She shuffled on her knees, not particularly gracefully, around behind him.

"What _are_ you up to?" He turned his head to follow her.

"Keep playing," she encouraged. "That same piece."

"Well, it's nearly finished now," he said wryly.

"So, _keep playing_," she insisted. "I'm going to...pay you some attention," she improvised. "For your efforts."

"That sounds promising," he agreed, chuckling throatily.

_Great_, now he was amused. It was all going awry. And the bra was itchy. But she wasn't giving up yet.

On her knees behind him, she leaned forward and planted a lingering kiss on the side of his neck.

"Yeeah..." he growled playfully. "More..."

She set to her task, as sensuously as she knew how, caressing and kissing his neck, back and shoulders, nudging at the collar of his shirt with her nose, running her fingers through his hair until it stood straight up. There was a spot at the back she particularly liked, where the hair came to a point at the nape of his neck. She rubbed her index finger there, up and down. He sighed and murmured: "Heaven."

"You've changed the music," she commented in his ear, leaning all the way against him now, with her arms around his neck. He was so tall that she could be up on her knees and still her chin just came over his shoulder, though he was hunched over the guitar.

"I can't play something so complicated, with your hands and kisses all over me." His voice was low and lovely, like a caress itself. She was completely turned on from touching him, her body aching all over, and he had done nothing but play the guitar and murmur at her.

"So what's this one called?" she asked, in her own attempt at a sexy voice. She licked his neck, the way he had licked hers earlier, from clavicle to earlobe.

"_God_," uttered Edward. He swore he could feel her nipples, hard against his back.

"'God'?" she repeated. "Really?"

"No, no. Theme...from...Cinema Paradiso." His voice broke on the last word, squeaking like a seventeen year old boy's.

_It was time_, she thought. She was nervous as hell.

It took him a second or two to realize she had removed herself. He was trying to play the damn song correctly, while she worked him up, and he wondered how he was going to get rid of the Mt. Rainier-sized erection in his jeans. He turned his head: "Hey..."

She didn't answer.

"Bella?"He jerked his head around, holding out the guitar. He froze.

She was sitting a few feet behind him, leaning back on her hands in the grass. She wore a brave expression and a completely sheer purple bra.

Bella had removed her blouse.

"Come here, handsome," she whispered.

He stared open-mouthed for a full five seconds. "_Minx_," he accused.

Then she gave a little scream, because he was suddenly_ there_; on his knees, in between hers, guitar discarded. She fell back in the grass, gasping. He leaned over her and licked his lips. Oh, the look in his eyes! Was this what lust looked like?

_It wasn't really even a bra_, he thought. It was a sheer stretchy thing with the most minimal embroidery that curled in spirals around each nipple. It had a tied sash at the front, a tie that would open up with a short quick tug and give him everything.

With one hand on the ground, supporting himself by her shoulder, he brought his fingers to her cheek and raked them around roughly to her mouth. She covered his hand with hers, and their eyes met. On instinct, she pressed the side of his forefinger into her mouth, wetting it. He was lost.

Suddenly his lips and hands were moving over her torso, everywhere that wasn't covered by the bra. No bit of exposed skin was left unkissed, and he even paid brief homage to her arm, her elbow, her palm. But he was so quick, she would hardly begin to moan at one sensation when he had moved to another spot.

He paused and swallowed hard. "Bella," he rasped, addressing her bra. Trembling, he picked up the end of the little sash.

Edward came back up and held her face in both his palms. His eyes pierced her. "Listen to me," he said desperately. "Can you hold still? Can you hold _absolutely still_?"

She nodded. She was so overwhelmed, so pleased, so happy, so achy and _alive_. She couldn't speak.

"Are you sure?" he cried. "Don't buck, don't twitch, DON'T MOVE. My teeth..."

"I won't," she managed. _I won't. _She steeled herself, as if it were going to hurt, though she didn't even know what he was going to do.

His lowered his head; she closed her eyes and willed herself immobile. His lips closed right on her nipple. How she managed to stay still, she never knew, because he took it into his mouth through the fabric and sucked on it. A high pitched cry came from between her teeth.

"Still!" he warned, his quick breaths cool against her breast. Then she felt the pull on the tie; he unwrapped her minimal purple protection and his mouth was back, first sucking one bare nipple, drawing it fully into his mouth, then the other. A wave of heat enveloped her body, all radiating from his cold mouth in a singular spot. He lifted his head at last, with a hoarse " 'kay," to let her know she could move.

She yelled with triumph, arching her back in a sort of celebration and throwing her arms around him. Why, she'd nearly had an orgasm. She'd never expected him to go this far. Dear, _darling_ hot and bothered Edward.

"OH!" she squeaked. He wasn't done.

Tweaking and cupping, squeezing and kissing, he was all rough fingers and lips on her bare breasts. She threaded her fingers into his hair and shut her eyes tight, still in shock that he hadn't put a sensible stop to all this glorious free-for-all.

"Bella, Bella, Bella," he moaned, like a plea against her skin. His mouth trailed lower, along the center of her abdomen until it hit the waistband of her skirt.

He pulled back then, up onto his knees, and she opened her eyes to look at him. His eyes were wild, molasses-black, and his expression nearly unrecognizable: lustful and hungry and nothing like the civilized, cultured, and occasionally prudish gentleman that she knew. She was not afraid.

With a little exhale, he grasped his fingers behind her knees and pulled them up on either side of his hips. He slowly, almost reverently, ran his palms up her thighs, bunching the fabric of her skirt as he went. She had only worn the matching purple panties because her white cotton Hanes had seemed like an insult to the bra, not because she thought he'd ever see them.

He groaned when he did see. These too had sash ties, one at each hip. With no preamble, no caressing of inner thigh or brushing against outer labia, he reached forward with curiosity and ran his thumb along the center of the soaking fabric, pressing on her clit. She bucked and gasped.

"Stopme,stopme,stopme," he begged, but as soon as she countered "I won't", he tugged at one tie, then the other. He tossed her panties somewhere in the grass. He ran his hands under her thighs, down to her bare bottom, cupping it...lifting her hips and lowering his face... Surely he wasn't going to...? _Oh my God_...

_Edward?_ He was suddenly on the grass beside her, writhing face down in the earth by her hip. One hand was clutching her thigh. There was no noise from him at all. He was...holding his breath?

"Edwaaard," she protested. No way, _no way_ he was going to stop now. She took his hand and moved it back to her center. She pressed on his fingers wantonly, moving them into her folds. Any last vestiges of embarrassment regarding nudity, daylight, pungent smells, jerking, bouncing and moaning (in short, the opposite of a ladylike demeanor) vanished with the first voluntary move of his finger. She cried out with pleasure.

"Fuuuuh..." He'd almost said the whole word, his face in the grass. Edward thrashed against the ground, his brain hanging on by the thinnest thread of control. _He should stop, he should go slowly, he should please her, he should finger-fuck her, he should cock-fuck her, he should eat her out, he should eat her—her femoral artery was just a thigh away. _His fingers moved instinctively, steadily. He had no idea of his speed or how much time was passing.

"Edward," she whimpered breathlessly, tugging at his ear, "come back to me." He realized vaguely that she was pulling on him: his shirt, his ear, his hair. He was still moving his fingers inside her, while keeping his face and his body as far away from her as was physically possible. He refused to breathe. Taking a risk, he turned his head and opened his eyes.

My God, what a sight. His Bella: mouth open, eyes squeezed tight, skin flushed, back arched, breasts bared, nipples pointed to the sky. All for him, because of him. There was nothing so beautiful in all this world. His desire to kill her evaporated; his dead heart swelled with adulation. He stared at his hand, marvelling that it was his own doing this to her, when she clenched around his fingers and cried out, "Edwaaaaaard."

They both lay there for a minute afterwards, face up and face down, panting like sprinters. Her hand found his shirt collar again. "Edward..." She tugged. "Please..."

Emotional and physical sensation still pinged through her, from scalp to toe, from lips to breast to clitoris and back again. She wanted him close to her, _now_. Why had he moved away when his hand was so intimate? Bella turned to look at him and reached for his shoulder. _Hold me, Edward, please. _

He was moving now, shaking his head back and forth, lifting himself up onto his arms. His hair was full of grass.

"Bella," he cried.

Was he angry at her for tricking him into this? She reached for his wrist.

"I am slain," he rasped. "Undone. You wicked woman."

He was laughing. _Laughing?_

"You glorious, gorgeous girl!" he shouted.

"Hold me, Edward." She laughed back, in joy and relief. He wasn't angry.

"Can't," he breathed, pushing her hand away. "I'll explode, I'll combust. I'll ravish you and ravage you too. Must go..."

"Go?" Where? _What_? "NO," she sat up abruptly.

He slapped his hands over his eyes. "I'm sorry my love, I'm sorry," he was still grinning from ear to ear. "Won't be two minutes. Maybe five."

Then he was gone. Gone. Faster than her human eyes could see.

"What?" She said it aloud into the clearing. Only the trees answered her, rustling in the breeze.

She sat there, dazed and topless with every bit of her in disarray. Eventually she looked around, found her blouse and slipped it over her head. She pulled her skirt down back over her thighs. Her bra – ah there it was, beneath her. _Lingerie was a powerful tool_, she thought detachedly. Or was it nudity? The two combined perhaps.

It drew him in, captured him, but then seemed to send him away too. She didn't understand. Edward had been tempted to bite her, she realized. This seemed nothing like his episode with Consuela.

She had triumphed, pushed his stupid boundaries, made him hard and wild, and he seemed to be glad. She'd had the most amazing orgasm of her life, on a blanket, in their meadow, by his hand. Then he had run away.

She looked for the purple panties, but her eyes were filling with tears and everything was a blur.

Edward's phone rang. She stared at it like it was an alien. Amazingly, the two wine glasses and his phone still stood upright and undisturbed on the blanket. Surely the earth had shaken when she'd had her climax, felling trees, disturbing the ebb and flow of the tides, throwing the orbits of planets off course?

It rang again. His ringtone of choice was that of an old-fashioned telephone, though his phone was the newest, latest, most beautiful phone made by man. At last, Bella reached for it, pushing at the smooth screen simply to stop the noise.

"Hello?"

"Bella? I just wanted to tell you that everything is going to be all right."

"Alice."

"I just saw Edward diving off the cliff."

"WHAT? _What cliff_?" Bella's heart nearly leapt from her chest.

"It's not a bad thing," Alice added hastily. "He was diving into the ocean. On purpose."

"You mean right _now_?"

"Don't worry. He was shouting or something. He seemed quite happy."

"Well, _yay_ for him," Bella replied testily. "So why are you calling if there is nothing wrong?"

There was a second or two of silence. "Oh. I just wanted to reassure you that he was coming back. I know cliff-diving has some rather unpleasant...associations for you."

"Well, I wouldn't have known he was cliff-diving if you hadn't called and told me. Thanks for scaring the life out of me."

Alice sighed. "That's true. Sorry... I just saw you upset and I wanted to help."

"You know, Alice, I love you dearly. But sometimes Edward and I just have to work things out for ourselves. If he is not in any danger... _Is_ he in any danger?"

"No," she said quietly. "Though he's ripped my favorite shirt of his on the rocks."

"If he is not in danger and is coming right back, then I'll deal with it by myself."

"Well." She sounded amused. "O-_kay. _ You have the situation well under control."

"I do, Alice. Let things fall where they may, all right?"

"There's an idea. Okay sister. And I love you back."

"Oh, shut up," Bella said, smiling a little. It was impossible to stay mad at Alice, especially when she had just called Bella "sister".

"Love the skirt-" Alice was saying just as Bella found and pushed the 'End call' button.

So Edward had run five miles to the ocean and gone for a swim. _What the hell?_ She stabbed at the buttonless buttons on his pretentious phone. She would change his ringtone to something awful. Celine Dion.

He had three text messages. From Tanya.

_hope y'r up for some manhunt ;)_

From this morning. Unread. Feeling both righteous, guilty and furious all at the same time, Bella scrolled to the next one.

_bringing dwn the citroen next week. needs work and yr touch._

Next week? Your TOUCH?That one was sent yesterday. Edward hadn't responded.

_drtmouth too far away. wish you wrn't going._

Five days ago. He hadn't responded to that one either. Bella let the phone fall from her hands.

Tanya. Tanya from Denali, the beautiful strawberry blonde vegetarian vampire. Bella had finally seen her in an old photograph in Carlisle's study. True, the other Denali sisters were in the photo, along with the entire Cullen family (minus Carlisle - the photographer, Bella assumed), all against the backdrop of rocky mountains, but it was the two Most Beautiful People in the World that had made Bella's heart stutter a little. Tanya lounged on her side in front of Edward, propped up on one elbow. She was dressed completely inappropriately for hunting in the mountains - go-go boots, a short, black knit dress and a psychedelic scarf. Her hair was teased and her eyes heavily made up with kohl, in the fashion of the time. The seventies, Bella guessed, looking at Emmett's awful wide-collared shirt. A small, secret-like smile lingered on Tanya's lips. It was her serenity, her confidence, her arrogance that unnerved Bella so.

Photo-Edward was only slightly more reassuring; he had the decency to look bored. He sat cross-legged behind Tanya, his posture slouched a little against a boulder behind him. They did and did not look like a couple. It could be interpreted either way.

Bella had shown huge self-control at the time and hadn't asked Esme anything more probing than who was who in the photo. Bella had long ago dismissed all three sisters as competition because of the numerous boyfriends mentioned whenever the girls' names came up. In fact, Bella couldn't recall Edward specifically saying Tanya's name even. _Ever._

Now here she was, texting him THREE times in five days.

What did all this mean? Manhunt? Citroen? Next week? While Bella was in Florida?

"FUCK," said Bella, for the first time ever out of the privacy of her own bedroom.

"I heard that." And here was Edward, striding barefoot across the meadow, water streaming from his darkened hair, from his ripped shirt, from his clinging jeans. Venus (or Apollo, rather) rising from the sea. Her breath caught in her throat at his beauty, before she could remember that she was upset. He took the last hundred feet in a single leap and was suddenly standing before her.

He took her hands in both of his and raised one palm to his lips, gently kissing it.

"I do not know what it is about you," he said softly against her hand, "that closes and opens; only something in me understands...the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses."

"_What?_?" she said.

"E.e. Cummings." His face fell. "You are angry with me."

He stepped back suddenly, dropping her hands. "Oh God. I took terrible advantage of you. Is that it?"

"Oh _please_. Yeah, I am angry. Why, oh WHY did you leave at the worst possible time, and _why does Tanya want you to touch her citroen_?"

**8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8***

All riiiight. Enjoy a little Edward and Bella lovin'? If you did, let me know! Like, where that review button is. Just a word or two would get me all teary. Really.

I am slowly fixing all the transitions inside a chapter. decided that all repetitive symbols would be discarded and so if the next chapters suddenly lurch from one scene to another without pause, it's because MADE SOME REALLY BAD DECISIONS AND DIDN'T WARN ITS AUTHORS. Ahem.


	5. Chapter 5: My Deliverer

In case you were wondering, the flashbacks represent the entire story, completely unabridged. How much of each story does Edward reveal to Bella? Most of it...some of it... you'll see.

Thanks to betas Kristi and Angel for their sharp eyes and warm encouragement! Any errors are mine. Thanks to Littlechoo for giving me perspective and Blondie for keeping the Twilighted standards up.

These characters belong to Stephanie Meyer and I do not profit financially.

**Chapter 5: My Deliverer**

Edward produced an answer, a ready answer, to everything Tanya. He met all of Bella's challenges in a patient tone, while she stared at the way his ripped, soaking white shirt clung to his shoulders and chest.

"A Citroën is a car," he said evenly. "A French car. Tanya's is a '68 Citroën DS, and she doesn't maintain it very well.

_A French car. How glamorous. _

"Why is she coming to see you?"

"_They _come every summer, the whole Denali coven."

"But-"

"Okay, not last year," he headed off her question. "Last year I told them to stay away. I didn't want other vampires catching your scent. Even vegetarians."

"Why is she texting _you_?" Bella pointed at his pretty phone on the blanket and gave it a quick, loathing glare.

"Contact with the Denali Coven comes in waves. I won't hear from her for four months, then she'll send me six emails in a row. It doesn't mean anything."

Bella stared at the rip in his shirt. She could see his nipple. "I don't like... _her choice of words_."

He smiled. "Yes, her tone is a bit suggestive. She speaks that way to everyone. Women, men..." he picked up a lock of Bella's hair, "...human girls like you as well. You'll think she's hitting on you, but she's not."

"So I'm going to meet her?"

"No," he said, his voice hardening. "You'll be in Florida."

Bella accepted these explanations quickly, mostly because she was desperate to make him understand how demoralizing it had been to watch him run away after her _first real sexual experience_. Later, when she had time to reflect– when she was dozing on a beach in Florida – Bella would note some gaping holes in his explanation. Worse, something strange in his delivery. It was like the voice he used on Mrs. Aiken, the school secretary, when he wanted to persuade her to change his class schedule.

Her second question – _why did you run off_ ?– was answered more genuinely, but less coherently.

"I had to," he said sheepishly, as if that explained it all. Now that the Tanya questions had been side-stepped, a wide, enthusiastic grin emerged, as if he could not contain himself any longer. "Sweet Bella." He touched her cheek with his thumb. "In thy face, Soft desires I can trace-"

"You had to? Why?" she demanded, interrupting him_. William Blake_, she thought.

"Because! Because I was...well, saturated." He took her elbows in his palms. "With your scent."

"You wanted to bite me."

"Yes, briefly. But then... there is your other scent."

_Other scent. _Bella had forgotten how strong it would smell to him. "Oh," she squeaked.

He put his cold, wet hands on her cheeks. "God, Bella. What you DO to me. 'Flames and ether making a rush for my veins,'" he quoted.

_Walt Whitman, maybe_? "But I didn't get to DO anything to you at all!" she pointed out, irritably tugging at his wrists. "It's not fair."

"Oh but you did! You _know_ you did," he sighed, dazzling her with his smile again. He leaned in, a tender (and slightly dopey) look in his golden eyes.

"Her dreams in broad daylight  
Make the suns evaporate  
Make me laugh, cry and laugh,  
Speak with nothing to say."

"Nothing to say is right! Shut UP with the poetry already," she cried, throwing up her hands. "Talk TO me, not AT me."

His euphoria fell right off his face; she had rained on his poetic parade. Perhaps it finally dawned on him that he had screwed up. Alcohol, she knew somehow, was contributing to her words... was granting her candor (or maybe insensitivity).

"Did you go in the ocean and beat off?" The words came out before she could stop them.

"Jesus," he hissed, jerking his head to the side. "Bella."

"So, you did. Why didn't you let me do it for you?"

His mouth opened and closed a few times in astonishment. He met her eyes. "It didn't occur to me...to let you do that."

"Well!" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. It hadn't occurred to her either, until just now. Of course, she had long imagined what it would be like to wrap her fingers around a hard penis (or a soft one for that matter), specifically Edward's. Getting him to agree to it though...that was the obstacle.

"Consider it next time." She shrugged. Her anger dissipated just as quickly as it had arrived.

"O-Okay," he stammered, almost in disbelief. "Maybe I will."

Bella stepped forward and tried to put her arms around his waist.

"I'm wet."

"I don't care." She lay her cheek against the cold fabric of his shirt.

"Wait," he said, and he left her arms to clear and gather the picnic blanket at lightning speed. He wrapped it around her and sank down against the trunk of the Cedar, pulling her into his lap.

He held her close, almost too tightly. "Oh Bella. I'd forgotten, in all this marvellous madness, that I cannot know what you are thinking. I was caught up in my own raw feelings and forgot that I wouldn't hear yours. I was overcome, really. With lust... and bloodlust."

His voiced dropped to a murmur. "So I thought a few minutes...uh, in the ocean...could subdue both."

"But that didn't happen with Consuela," Bella protested gently. "You didn't run away. And you had touched her, too. In the same way."

He stopped breathing a moment. "I never said that."

"Well, I guessed." She waited to let that sink in. He was perfectly still. "You gave me an edited version of your story, didn't you?"

He did not answer, and Bella continued. "I could tell, by the way you touched me, that you had done it before."

"Really?" He sounded surprised. "I was flying on sheer instinct this time. It's what love and desire brought forth – I was just the deliverer. Consuela was more like...um...a scientific exploration."

Bella giggled at this.

"Does this mean you liked it?" His words were shy and sweet, but very fast. "I mean...you looked pleased. Was it...was it okay?"

She twisted in his lap to look at his face. He would be blushing if he could, she thought. "Yes," she whispered. "You're my Deliverer."

He beamed. "That's me," he whispered back.

"Now hold me," Bella requested, settling back against his chest. "That's what I want. To be held."

"Ah," he said. "To be held."

They had been mostly quiet after that. He had kissed her temple and rocked her and apologized for making the blanket damp, but he had seemed lost in thought. _What the hell,_ she decided and she asked for one more glass of wine as the setting sun blazed a streaky orange-purple through the trees.

"Do some more poetry," she slurred in his embrace, feeling a little guilty about telling him to shut up earlier. "Wald Whidman stufff. Song of Myselff."

He murmured the lines, in his best velvet voice, and she must have fallen asleep somewhere during the fifth stanza. She was not conscious of being carried back through the darkened trees, nor being placed fully clothed in her bed.

Next thing she knew, her alarm clock was breaking through the fog of her first ever hangover, and Charlie was tapping at her door, telling her to get a move on or they'd miss her flight.

**8&8&8&8&8&8&8&**

Bedtime in Jacksonville was dominated by quiet, flirty phone conversations under the covers, but neither of them brought up the meadow or what had happened there. His texts were a little bolder, though. He asked her to describe her swimsuit (_Is it purple? Is it sheer?)_ when she was sitting on the beach with Renee and Phil, making her blush as thoroughly as any sunburn.

She was touring the Kennedy Space Center while they played a texting game of _I miss your __. Face, kiss, arms, smile, etc., back and forth.

_I miss your navel, _he texted. He had put his tongue there, she remembered.

_I miss your knees,_ he added in rapid succession. He had lifted them up, slowly... slowly...

Holding her breath, she texted_ I miss your fingers_.

His answer was nearly instant. _On you?_ _In you?_

_Both. Oh, both. You're my Deliverer, _she texted back, grinning inappropriately, as her group was now listening to the earnest tour guide relate the trials and tribulations of Apollo 13.

The tone and frequency of his texts did not change even after the Denali clan arrived, and this was a great reassurance to Bella. His phone calls, however, were often cut short; "Too many ears around here," he would grumble. "I'll call you from the forest."

On Saturday night, Edward mentioned he had shared a mountain lion with Tanya near the Canadian border. Bella was stunned for a moment. Wasn't feeding a rather primal activity? At a rate of one mammal per vampire? Was sharing a "couples" thing? She didn't really know; Edward always refused to bring her along.

"I want to go hunting too, you know," she said suddenly.

"For what...wild mushrooms? Feral pasta?" He chuckled at his own joke.

"No. With you. I want to join you sometime."

"No, it's not a good idea," he responded, his voice sounding flat on the phone.

Bella had unsettling dreams that night: Edward and Tanya relaxing and laughing in the Big Cat Enclosure at the Orlando Zoo. They lounged on the rocks, Tanya dressed in spectacular 1970's attire and made up with heavy black eyeliner, just like in the photograph in Carlisle's study. A dead mountain lion carcass lay on the floor beside them. Bella stood on the other side of the moat with the visitors, palming her phone and waiting for Edward to text her, while a tour guide droned on unintelligibly.

In the clear light of morning, Bella dismissed the dream as nonsense (because dreams often are). Sunday afternoon, however, on Phil's laptop, an Instant Messaging Session with Alice brought jealousy back with a wide-awake punch.

_spent day in Portland shops w/ Irina and Kate. good find or two. _

_If there's something good, you'll find it. Tanya doesn't shop? _

_prefers to shop on her own! Weird, huh. Lost her in bkshp_

_Avid reader?_

_don't think so. Edwrd._

_? (_Bella hit the keys on her Phil's computer with force.)

_Edwrd got stuck wth her._

_got stuck..._

_He avds her genrlly._

"_avds"? _

_Avoids._

_Why?_

_Historicl rezons, no?_

_EXPLAIN. _

_o. edwrd's job._

_Job...uh...employment?_

_no, his job to explain. Gotta run, playng manhunt in a mo._

It was then and there that Bella decided that she was due back in Forks. A few days early.

_WHAT? _ Alice texted her two minutes later, from the forest presumably. Or wherever it was they played this 'manhunt'.

_DON'T TELL HIM, _Bella texted back.

**8&8&8&8&8&8&8&**

Feel free to express yourself by pressing that ol' review button down below there. Reviews are like a delivery from Edward.

Should canon Edward have a minimal sex life pre-Bella? Go to the Twilighted forum thread if you've got an opinion on it. Link on my profile.


	6. Chapter 6: Surprise

Hey there! It's all Stephanie's world, and I make zippo, nada, goose egg from it.

I know nothing about car engines, the Romanian Language, or the lakes of Alaska. Particularly car engines. I can put in windshield washing fluid – barely.

Thanks to beta ladies Kristi and Angel, and to Littlechoo for suggesting I tighten up my prose. And finally to Blondie, my last quality control check.

**Chapter 6: Surprise**

It should have been Rosalie pressed up under this illogically-designed little French number. She could replace piston rings with her eyes closed. But no, it was Edward who was practically eating grease, trying to reach the engine's innards from the undercarriage.

Prodigy's latest track thrummed at full decibel from the garage's Bose speakers, and the old engine chugged noisily, but Edward called out his findings to his sister at a normal volume. "Five, intact. Six, intact...no, cracked. Replace number six—"

_Why-oh-why did you buy her this ludicrous car? _asked Rosalie in her head while she wrote his findings on a notepad.

"Shut up. Seven, cracked."

_Was it to punish her or please her? _goaded Rose.

"Shut UP. EIGHT INTACT."

_Punish US, more like._

"It was the most innovative technology of its day," he muttered. "And a great rally car, you can't deny it."

"True," Rose conceded. _Do you think she appreciates it fully?_

"Probably not."

_Funny, that she hangs on to it still, after 40 years. _Rosalie padded this thought with innuendo; no fully articulated thoughts were needed.

"Yeah. Hilarious. Now SHUT. UP."

"Are you saying 'shut up' to me or my wife?" chimed in Emmett from the counter. He thumbed through Fine Homebuilding magazine and scrutinized a sleek maple-panelled bathroom.

"Well, what are you thinking about?" asked Edward irritably. He stretched upwards to reach pistons six and eight, feeling the grease of the underbody smear against his cheek.

"You already know," Emmett shrugged. "Sex in a bathtub."

"Then you can_ both_ shut up. Wait – what the hell...?" A new pitch - a lower-cycling whine -reached his ears, got louder, then died. _What now?_ he thought, looking wildly up into the engine. Then there was a low double thump that had nothing to Prodigy's drummer. A systolic – dystolic sort of thump.

_It's the Chevy, _answered Rose. _And the human._

"Bella?" he shouted, rolling out from under the car and leaping to his feet.

Bella stood, smiling before him in the open garage doorway, in a little denim dress that showed sun-kissed legs and arms. "Hello," she said loudly, over the music. Rose reached over and turned it down.

Edward barked out a laugh of pure wonder, turned off the ignition, and leaned back against the car.

"You've surprised him," said Rosalie approvingly. "Not easily done."

"Bella!" laughed Emmett, moving forward for a hug. "Couldn't stay away, huh?"

That got Edward moving. "Get in line, Em," he quipped, suddenly standing before her.

"Dude," warned Emmett, behind his shoulder. "You're filthy."

"Yes, very dirty," Bella raised an eyebrow. She thought an olive-green, grease-covered jumpsuit had never looked so good. She tilted her chin up for a kiss.

"Wait." He pulled his latex gloves off with a loud snap and tossed them aside. Grinning at her, he unzipped his coveralls, neck to groin, shimmied out and pushed them down to bunch around his ankles. Yes, he wore jeans beneath, but still it was the sexiest move she had ever seen.

She _leapt._ He caught her on the ass and, automatically, she wrapped her legs around his waist. His eyes were like saucers, but he laughed again and kissed her, hard.

_Get a room, _thought Rosalie.

_Have you guys cashed-in, bro? _wondered Emmett.

Edward ignored their thoughts and teeter-tottered over to the counter, dragging his jumpsuit on the floor. He set her on the counter and stood brazenly between her legs. "How I've missed you." He put his fingers in her glorious chestnut hair and kissed her again.

"You're not upset I came back early?" She touched his bare arms, marvelling a little. Edward in a white tank undershirt _is a very good thing_.

"Are you kidding me? You look so damn good to my sore eyes."

"Edward. We can HEAR you," Rosalie complained. _Everyone can._ _And I can see up her dress. _

Edward took Bella's knees in his hands and pressed them close on either side of his hips, under the pretence of blocking the view. His eyelids fluttered briefly, and she swore he gave her a look that said _from the meadow, forward._ There was no going back to their chaste relationship, she knew it. Edward had crossed some psychological barrier while she was away, some threshold that finally surpassed his old-fashioned, last century ideas. Bella was relieved. And maybe a little nervous. Or a lot nervous.

"Can we finish here please?" Rosalie tapped long fingernails on the radiator. "I'm waiting."

"Rose, come on," he fired back, still staring into Bella's brown eyes. "Bella's here." He rubbed his thumbs over her knees in slow circles.

"Yeah, and I've had enough of this old bucket. Replace the pistons and we're done _avec la mademoiselle._ It won't take you fifteen minutes."

"Oh! Is this the Citroën?" Bella asked, peering around Edward's torso.

Edward stiffened. "Yes," he said.

"I'll bet you can't do it in ten," wheedled Rose. Edward scowled.

"Go ahead." Bella smiled. "I don't mind."

He looked down and gave her knee one last lingering stroke. "Okay. But don't go in the house." His face hardened a moment; he stepped back and pushed her knees closed together.

"Yeah," cracked Emmett. "I've heard there are vampires in there."

Bella laughed, feeling an elated buzz. Edward loved her, _oh he loved her_! 'So damn good for my sore eyes,' he'd said, even after hanging out with vampire women all week. _Jog on, Tanya._

Edward pulled up his coveralls and put his arms back in the sleeves. Bella reached forward and took the zipper tab in her fingers, just below his waist. Raising his eyebrows, he let her zip him up. He smirked, and then moved back under the car so fast she didn't even see him lie down on the trolley.

"Ten minutes, you're on," he called from underneath and Rosalie snorted.

Emmett whistled and checked his watch. "And heeeee's offf!" Emmett did his own version of a rave dance back to the iPod docking station (which was now playing 'Smack my Bitch Up') and cranked up the volume, making both Rosalie and Bella giggle. Well, Bella anyway. Rosalie doesn't giggle; she _chimes_.

Bella could no longer hear what they were saying, but Edward was obviously requesting small car parts from Rosalie, and she would hand them to him from the top and then direct or nag or advise (or whatever banter they had cultivated over seventy-plus years) to get the job done.

Rosalie tapped her foot and bounced her hip while she leaned over the engine, and Emmett continued his various dance styles around her, occasionally skipping over Edward's protruding legs or slapping Rosalie on the behind at the appropriate lyrics. Bella swung her dangling feet, enjoying herself.

Emmett called out "eight minutes!" just as a face appeared around the edge of the doorway. It was one of the Denali sisters.

"Hello," she sang out, eyes on Bella.

"Kate! Dance with me!" Emmett hollered, but then they all appeared around the corner – one, two, three, four - Bella counted. Okay not all; one sister was missing. Bella slid off the counter, and Emmett turned the music back down - to accommodate Bella's human hearing, she realized.

"Hi Bella!" trilled the one named Kate, whose fine, stick-straight blonde hair and magazine-cover face took Bella's breath away. "We thought we heard a new voice in the garage. It's wonderful to meet you at last!" She came forward and took Bella's hands in her own.

"I'm Irina," said model no. two, of the flowing locks and flawless skin. She had a beauty mark, like Marilyn Monroe. "Esme and Alice can't stop talking about you. I'm happy to put a face to the name."

Bella nodded and swallowed with some difficulty. "Hi," was all she could manage.

Bella hadn't even seen him come out from under the car, but Edward was already at her shoulder. She glanced at him, but he was intensely gazing into the face of each of the Denali coven as they came forward to shake Bella's hand. _He's reading their minds_, she realized. His lip was curled back slightly, an expression that Bella had seen often enough to interpret it a feral warning.

Bella thought the Denali group might find this rather rude, but they each gave him the shortest nod, like a mark of respect, before or just after shaking Bella's hand, and Eleazar simply bowed and smiled, without touching her at all.

When Edward read that none of them seemed affected by Bella's extraordinary scent , he relaxed -marginally. They all seemed sincerely glad to meet Bella, particularly Kate, who gushed that she had been waiting an entire year to meet Edward's _dragoste de viaţă lungă_.

"Life long love," Edward translated softly in Bella's ear, and she dipped her head with a shy, quick smile.

"Come and meet my other sister." Kate pulled gently at Bella's hand. "And Esme is whipping up something for you in the kitchen."

"Uh," protested Edward, exhaling, and Kate reached forward to take Edward's hand too. She picked it up in a strange fluid movement that Bella found slightly disturbing. Her forefinger hooked in his palm and ran to his pinkie, flexing his wrist ever so slightly; she then turned her cupped hand in his to finally grasp his fingers. It took only a second. It was a little too intimate.

"Dear Edward," she said. "I know your Bella is very precious; but grant us some time to get to know her." Kate smiled, and Bella had no idea how Edward could resist such a sparkling array of teeth.

"For God's sake, let them go." Rosalie rolled her eyes. "Finish the damn car, you're about to lose your ten minute wager."

_I'll trail along, brother, _Emmett offered, putting his hand on his chest. _They're family, the Denalis. They need to get used to Bella. And vice-versa._

"Yes, yes, of course," muttered Edward, swallowing. It wasn't their bloodlust that worried him actually. It was what Tanya might say to Bella. "How much time do I have left?"

"Three minutes, fifteen seconds." Emmett tapped his watch.

And Edward back was under the Citroën, like a shot. Rosalie smirked and returned the music to full volume.

"He'll be there a while, I'm afraid," Emmett chuckled to Bella, as they made their way from the garage to the front door. "Once he's done the pistons, Rose will make him test everything and clean it all up too."

"I thought Rose liked to work on cars too – or does she just boss Edward around?" Bella asked teasingly.

"Rose is a dominatrix of sorts," laughed Irina, in a low, husky voice that made Bella feel slightly embarrassed.

Emmett laughed back; he didn't disagree. "Rose refuses to dirty her hands on the Citroën. It's Edward's burden, she says."

Bella frowned. "But...it's Tanya's car."

"Ah, but he bought it for her," said Kate. "As a surprise."

"Oh." Bella's heart seemed to contract in her chest. "Recently?"

"1968." Emmett patted Bella on the arm reassuringly. "He had to, Bella. He put her other car on the bottom of Lake Chikuminuk."

_There's a story,_ thought Bella, _that I must hear._

_**8&8&8&8&8&8&8**_

Tanya was a pearl, a pink-tinted pearl, dressed in elegant white linen trousers and a stretchy summer sweater of some pale and very expensive rose-and-white weave. She sat like a queen, with her alabaster arms spread across the back of the sofa and her chin up _just so_. She did not get up when the chatty group entered the living room.

Bella could feel Tanya's eyes on her, while Esme fussed and hugged and rushed back and forth from the kitchen to hand Bella a cold lemonade and then a small plate of _parmesan twists, _Esme called them.

"And this is my sister, Tanya," Kate said, drawing Bella over to the sofa. "She didn't want to risk her white trousers in the garage, did you T?"

Bella gaped. "I've seen you before," she blurted gracelessly. And it wasn't in the 1970's photo either.

"Yes, you have." Tanya smiled, showing her teeth. "Newton's Olympic Outfitters. This past January. I bought hiking boots."

"What a coincidence," murmured Emmett.

"Oh. Right." Bella stood there, staring like a complete idiot. Tanya had seen Bella when she was Edward-less...at her absolute lowest, when she hardly functioned, much less bothered with wearing mascara or brushing her hair.

"I should have recognized you as a vampire," Bella added lamely. But she hadn't. She had only noted Tanya's white skin, and how much it was like Edward's. Bella had sniffed back tears during the entire shoe fitting.

Bella felt slightly ill.

"Sit, dear, sit," insisted Esme. "Make yourself comfortable."

Bella sat. "Where's Alice?" she asked, in a voice that sounded unnaturally high.

"Gone," Emmett laughed and plopped down next to her, distending all the cushions. "How do you think you managed to surprise us?" He tugged on a lock of Bella's hair playfully. "She and Jasper left with the moving van, like two days ago. Probably right when you decided to come back early."

"The moving van?" Bella could feel Tanya's eyes boring, _boring_ into her like a giant steel drill into her skull. Bella picked up a parmesan twist and twiddled it in her fingers.

"With all Edward's crap – plus all the new crap Esme's picked out. And the Volvo. Excuse my language..." He caught Esme's disapproving look. "Not crap - _stuff_. New stuff. And Charlie added some boxes of your books in there too."

"Oh," Bella squeaked, again. "Charlie came by here?"

"No, he gave the stuff to Edward. After they went fishing."

_They went fishing?_ Bella's head was spinning. _And Jasper and Alice are coming to Dartmouth?_

They were all on the sofas now, the Denalis, speaking quietly to one another, and like the Cullens, the resulting buzz was almost musical. They didn't sit, they lounged, like sleek and beautiful models, swathed in their designer clothes and understated jewellery. It was a Vanity Fair photo shoot.

Bella reassessed her Florida-bought denim dress, which now looked rather juvenile. She looked down at her toes (_look_ _anywhere but at Tanya!_). The fun magenta polish Renee had insisted on was already chipped. She put a parmesan twist into her mouth, not wanting to hurt Esme's feelings. Chewing never seemed more inelegant.

"Jasper and Alice left right in the middle of Manhunt, you know." Carmen said to Bella. "Now I see why. We were all taken by surprise, as Jasper loves Manhunt. Edward was very suspicious, wasn't he, Tanya?"

"He was," Tanya said. She continued to stare.

"What...what is Manhunt exactly?" Bella asked Emmett quietly, but of course everyone heard.

"Oh, it's good fun. Especially with all of us—"

"We're playing tomorrow night again—"

"With Alice away it will change the dynamic—"

"Hey, Edward should bring Bella—"

"Hah, that might slow him down...no offense, Bella lubnik—"

"You'd go on his back," Emmett explained. "It's like Tag...and Hide and Seek. But with teams. What do you think?"

"Uuh," she answered. Now they were all staring at her, smiling...waiting. _God!_

"Now, everyone," Esme broke in. "That's the night before they leave, Emmett. Surely Bella needs to pack up...and rest! They have a long drive ahead of them."

"No...I mean YES. I want to join in," Bella insisted fiercely.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Tanya's mouth twitch.

"Ye-ah!" Emmett pumped his fist. "That's our girl. I told you she had guts, guys."

Bella managed a small smile, grateful for Emmett's compliment. She didn't know what she had just agreed to, but she didn't want to leave Edward with that staring, god-awful, beautiful bitch for another minute –though part of her wanted to run away shrieking that very moment. She suddenly wished with all her heart that Edward could hear her thoughts right now. He would burst in the room in his dirty coveralls and scoop her up. They would leave for New Hampshire now, _right now_, and drive like maniacs to catch up with dear, loving, understanding Alice.

_**8&8&8&8&8&8&8**_

Edward came to her room that night, which should have comforted her. He snuggled up behind her, spooning and nuzzling her neck, whispering sweetly how he had missed her. But she felt this great big block of unfilled space between them. A space that needed to be occupied with his story, his past, his honesty.

He hadn't told her about buying a Citroën for Tanya. He hadn't told her about the Denali girls all being the original succubi, which Kate had explained matter-of-factly while Edward was in the shower. Bella had somehow managed to keep her face straight, though the whole idea of a succubus was unreal to her, like a pornographic dream girl thought up by fantasy fandom geeks. It explained much, though, about the way the girls spoke and touched other people. They were walking sex goddesses, all three of them. Sex oozed out of their pores, into their sentences, rife with double entendre, into the cut of the clothing they wore, into the furniture they draped themselves over. Yet they managed to look completely and utterly classy at the same time. There was no hint –_not a whiff!—_of sluttishness. And Tanya was the superlative. Untouchable while begging to be touched. The freshness of a twenty-five year old and the experience of a millennium. Bella could hardly bear it.

But she couldn't articulate any of this to Edward. None of it. She would burst into a torrent of petulant, insecure tears, if she so much as broached the subject.

"Is everything okay?" he asked in her ear. He rubbed her back in a soothing way. The sexually charged physical contact from the garage was on hold, for the time being.

"I'm just tired," she said, which was true. It was two in the morning in Jacksonville.

"Thank you for your surprise," he murmured.

She said nothing at all, not knowing what to feel, what to say, what to think. Minutes later, she was asleep.

Edward quietly rose from the bed and came around to the other side, dropping into a squat. He studied her face. She was stressed, he knew, and the mass of glamorous vampire company today hadn't helped.

He had lost his ten minute wager, while he strained to distinguish the multiple thoughts and viewpoints coming from the living room. Tanya's thoughts were semi-disguised but he could feel the cold criticism lurking behind them. In anger, he had crushed one of the piston rings and had to humiliate himself and ask Rosalie for another.

Fortunately Tanya and Bella were unlikely to be alone at any time over the next twenty-four hours. Edward would make sure of it.

"Not long now," he whispered to Bella's lovely sleeping face. "Just you and me and the open road. And I've got my own surprise for you, too." He smiled and kissed her lips with the lightest brush of his own.

_**8&8&8&8&8&8&8**_

There's a link to a photo of Tanya's car on my profile. Have a look – it's pretty cool in my opinion.

If you review you get Edward to slide beneath your undercarriage. He'll tweak your pistons.


	7. Chapter 7: Manhunt

Thanks to my growing list of helpers and beta-babes that make this a better story: Littlechoo, Kristi and Angel. You're marvellous dahling. And thanks to the famous Blondie, my Twilighted Beta.

Thanks to effleurage and summer35 for pimping the story. You can discuss Edward's sex life or lack thereof, on the Abriged Account thread at Twilighted forum.

All belongs to Stephanie Meyer, except the bits that don't. The bits I thought of.

**Chapter Seven: Manhunt**

Edward heard her enter the dining room. He couldn't read her mind, though; she projected a vaguely Slavic-sounding tune in her head. He did not turn around, but continued gathering the product brochures into a folder marked _12 Balch Hill Road_.

"You've gotten better, Tanya," he said, "at blocking me."

"Good," she replied, a little defiantly. Tanya stepped forward and splayed her fingers over the blueprints spread out on the polished teak table top, pausing to read Esme's scribbled notes for the contractors. Edward yanked them out from under her hand, and started to roll one up. It was bad enough that Esme had guessed his intentions; he didn't need Tanya's superior, snarky comments to further embarrass him. He put a rubber band around one and began to roll up another.

Tanya's thoughts flooded forth now – holding them back took effort – and they ranged from admiring the spread of his shoulders in his fitted, heather-grey shirt, to puzzling over the curious modifications he was planning to make to the house near the Dartmouth campus. All was underscored by a dull, persistent resentment of the human girl that had won him.

"You're really going tomorrow, aren't you?" She picked up a roll absently, weighing it in her hand, encircling her thumb and forefinger around its end.

"Mid-morning, probably. After Manhunt." He kept his tone neutral, trying charitably to conceal the bubbling excitement he felt at the prospect. Bella and Edward would be starting a new life together, unfettered by family, curfews, or the nosy, small-town observers of the Chief's and the surgeon's offspring. Tomorrow they'd be tearing down wide American roads in a perfect machine,the Aston Martin, toward the opposite coast, toward a small house in Hanover, New Hampshire, toward a life as a couple.

Tanya put one palm on the table, leaning forward and staring at him. Her figure displayed well in this position. The other hand remained locked around the girth of the drawing roll.

_Don't go. Just...change your mind. Stay._

He gave a little scoff, uncomfortable with her intensity. He tidied pencils and scale rules and avoided her eyes.

Tanya lowered her voice to a volume only his ears could hear. "She won't last."

"Yes, yes – so you've warned me before." He waved his hand dismissively. _Go the fuck away already._

"It nearly destroyed you last spring. In Brazil and then in Volterra."

He glared. "That was all my own doing. Bella is blameless. She saved me, in fact, from my own stupidity."

_Oh Edward. You're so young. _"This is your first human relationship."

"True, but not quite accurate, Tanya." He took the remaining roll out of her hand. "Hear me now: this is my first and only relationship. Ever."

**8&8&8&8&8&8&8&**

"Tonight," said Alice, "you are going to have a rather...um, _unpleasant_ conversation." Alice was calling from somewhere in the Ohio Valley. Bella had Alice on speaker phone while throwing the last of her wardrobe into a suitcase.

"Well, good," responded Bella grimly, balling up socks. "It needs to be aired. All of it."

"_Wow_, you think so?" She sounded quite astonished. "You're not going to like what you hear."

"_Shit."_ Bella cursed under her breath. She tossed orphan socks back in the nearly empty drawer. "You won't give me a preview... just a little hint?"

"No. I'd be _meddling_," she said, a little waspishly, as if already expecting a complaint. "And I shouldn't." There was talking in the background: Jasper's drawl.

"Be confident, that's Jasper's advice," continued Alice after a moment. "Remember that he loves you."

"Jasper loves me?" teased Bella.

"Yes, well, _ha ha_; he does actually. We do. And so does Edward. Truly, madly, deeply. Wear something flattering tonight."

"Like that matters."

"It does. Wear that green wrap shirt, with the tie at the side. Put that Aveda serum in your hair, it really makes it shine."

"_Alice._ I'm going to be up in the trees playing Manhunt, or whatever it's called. I've still got to pack, clean out the truck for Jake, spend quality time with Charlie, and then find the right moment to sneak out of my bedroom. There's no time to apply hair serum. Somewhere in there I'm going to have this horrible conversation, where Edward tells me he's not a virgin after all."

There was silence at the other end. The pile of socks in Bella's arms fell to the floor.

"Alice. ALICE. _I was joking... _please PLEASE tell me he's not going to say that."

**8&8&8&8&8&8&8&**

"You don't have to do this, you know." Edward crouched in her bedroom window, long legs, clad in skinny black jeans, folded underneath him. It was just past nine pm. "Manhunt can be tedious at times. There's a lot of hiding and waiting. Or it could be manic."

"I want to try it," Bella asserted, running a brush quickly through her hair.

Edward inhaled her scent and smiled. He could happily wrap himself in her mass of shiny hair. _Tomorrow night, he would_. In a hotel room somewhere in South Dakota, probably. God, he hoped he could control himself. _Was she bringing the purple lingerie_? "Well, we can talk while we're hiding. There are some things I want to tell you."

"Really." Her voice was flat. "There are some things I want to hear."

On the way to the Cullen house, Edward tried to explain the game. "Two team leaders are chosen – usually Jasper and Carmen - and initially everyone else is unattached."

"Unattached," repeated Bella, only half listening. She was staring at his perfect face, a face she could never hope to equal in beauty, even if she became a vampire. She thought about Tanya, a thousand years ago. Didn't they all have bad teeth, bent spines and ravaged skin then? If so, then vampirism could surely do wonders for Bella...

"First," he said, "the team leaders go around tagging others, building their respective teams. The coveted team member is Alice, for obvious reasons."

"Alice. Yeah, I'm surprised she's allowed to play," said Bella, paying attention now. She didn't want to appear slow-witted tonight. "Or you, for that matter, if you can hear what everyone is thinking."

"Ah, that's the mental challenge of the game: thought discipline. The team without Alice abandons all strategy and attempts to make only spontaneous decisions, so she cannot anticipate their moves."

"That sounds...impossible. Do they ever win without Alice?"

"When Jasper is their leader, they might. He's fielded her methods for a long time. And he makes good decisions on the fly. Of course, neither Alice nor Jasper is here tonight. Emmett will probably team-lead."

"Okay." Bella sighed. Why couldn't vampires just play an ordinary game of _tag_? "So...what about you? You can read their decisions AND you can hear their minds coming– doesn't that give you an unfair advantage?"

"My mind-reading range extends to a 2.5 mile radius maximum - depending on the relative humidity, believe it or not. We play in a 40 square mile zone. And I'm never on a team."

"Oh. Why not?"

"Because I'm the best," he said, winking. "You'll see."

They pulled into the Cullens' driveway. Both covens were gathered on the lawn near the woodland's edge. All were dressed in dark colours. They greeted Bella and Edward animatedly. Even Tanya was smiling – Bella thought it more fiendish than friendly though. Emmett was bouncing on the balls of his feet and throwing playful punches at Carlisle's upper arm. Carlisle swatted at him like he was a pesky fly. Carmen and Rosalie were laughing, trying to tuck Rosalie's bright hair into a hat. Maybe this would be fun; the dreaded conversation could wait.

Esme embraced Bella and spoke softly in her ear. "If you don't feel comfortable with the game or you want a break, the house is open."

Bella knew that anyone listening could hear this exchange, but she appreciated Esme's facade of discretion anyway.

"Have you explained the game to Bella?" Carlisle asked Edward.

"Nearly." Edward nodded, pulling a navy knit beanie out of his pocket and slipping it on his head.

"Except..." Bella suddenly realized something. "Edward didn't tell me...how do you win?"

"_Edward_ is how you win." Tanya laughed throatily, her eyes raking him over. "He is the prize."

Edward shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. Tanya's thoughts had become more aggressive as the day had progressed, probably in retaliation for his sharp words earlier that morning in the dining room. Now she flashed him an image where she was the sole winner, with Edward pinned beneath her on the forest floor. Edward glanced nervously at Bella, as if she could see it too.

"It's because he's so goddamn fast," explained Emmett. "And because he can hear your mind coming. He can't be on any team; it wouldn't be fair."

"Only a whole team of people can catch him," added Carlisle. "He has to be ambushed from all sides, with multiple minds coming at him, so he can't see all views at once."

"Oh!" said Bella, trying to picture herself on Edward's back while an army of fleet-footed vampires charged at them. "So actually, Edward is the _man_ in Manhunt."

"You've got it, Bella," Kate chuckled.

"The winning team gets the moneypot," grinned Emmett. "Each of us puts in a hundred dollars."

"What do we get?" Bella turned to Edward.

_Time alone in a tree. A feel-up, if I'm lucky. _"Nothing, unless we elude them all until dawn – then _we _get the moneypot."

"The ultimate win, however," said Tanya, her golden eyes gleaming strangely in the light from the garage, "is to tag Edward _before_ becoming a team member. On your own."

"Hah!" cried Edward arrogantly. "That never happens." Manhunt usually stoked his ego nicely; he often won. He felt a ridiculous urge to show off to his mate tonight, to win her approval. He stepped behind Bella and put his arms around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"Doesn't stop us from trying," muttered Rose, narrowing her eyes at him. Edward narrowed his eyes right back at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Bella leaned back against him, feeling possessive, proud and a little jealous all at the same time. She yearned for the day she would be a nimble vampire, playing with her equals, with at least a chance of tagging Edward. "And what bonus would you get for catching him on your own?"

There was a beat of silence –

"You'd get to _do Edward,"_ said Emmett, deadpan. Everyone exploded in laughter.

Edward lunged at Emmett with a hiss and _picked him up,_ holding his huge body overhead, as if Edward were going to throw his brother across the driveway. There were whistles and more laughter, while Emmett feigned helplessness, waving his arms and legs in the air like a giant beetle on its back. Bella stared. She marvelled at Edward's strength, at the game she was about to play, at the weirdness of life with a vampire boyfriend.

**8&8&8&8&8&8&8&**

Bella dared not look down. Edward had a good hold on her though, and she had done the tree-climbing thing with him many times now. They climbed up, they climbed down, they leapt across small streams or waded up them (the shallow ones) to avoid leaving an obvious trail. She shrieked aloud every time he leapt between trees; it was a reflex of nerves and delight.

They'd had a head start of thirty minutes, and now the chase was on, the others fanning out in hopes of finding the 'prize' before being tagged to a team.

"Anyone nearby?" she asked in his ear. He slowed to a stop in the huge, soft-needled branches of a mature Douglas Fir and carefully set her onto a sturdy limb.

He smelled the wind and filtered the air for thoughts. "Not yet," he grinned in the moonlight. "Let's fool around." He wondered if he could get in her jeans while up in a tree – probably risky. _But that green wrap shirt could be unwrapped..._ He put his hand right on her thigh, making her jump. _Behave,_ he reprimanded his libido. Just because she let him put his fingers in her most intimate places two weeks ago didn't mean she'd allow it again.

That day in the meadow had undone him completely; his pre-defined standards of propriety had grown wild and unkempt like the August grass. His opinions had become free-floating and hazy, changeable and fuzzy-edged, all according to his mood. Sex before marriage? With a respectable girl? Certainly not...no...maybe...why not...yes _please_.

His mother was probably making a quarter-turn in her grave.

"Up here? No way." She stilled his hand with her own. "We need to talk. We haven't had a chance to talk since I got back."

"True," he said, nodding. "Of course we might need to flee at any moment."

"I'll be ready," she replied gamely. She raised her chin, giving him that fierce, brave look that had so amused and attracted him at Forks High School. "So, what did you want to tell me?"

"Well..." He looked into her eyes. _I want to make love to you (and soon). The New Hampshire house is legally half yours. I'm building a safe sex bedroom. And a swimming pool. Your father wants me to 'give you some space'. I'm not going to do English Lit with you. Oh and by the way, don't spend a moment alone with Tanya._

"Hm. Where to begin?" He rubbed his jaw. He hadn't really rehearsed any of these topics.

"How about 1968?" said Bella, enunciating slowly.

His eyes jerked to her face - then he took a sharp breath. "Tanya and Irina, within range."

"Wha-?"

He gripped her around the waist and leapt into thin air. Bella's breath was expelled from the force and surprise of it. She squeezed her eyes shut, while he swung her through the trees like a rag doll. He moved more quickly than she had ever experienced with him before.

"Going down," he commented in her ear, as she felt the air whistling UP past her. She couldn't help it; she screamed. Surely they would break all their bones when they hit the ground. But no, he landed as if the earth were a rubber cushion and took off immediately running, swinging her around onto his back.

"Try not to scream next time, woman," he teased, over his shoulder. "It kind of gives away our position."

"I'm going to be sick," she cried.

"No, you're not," he exclaimed. "They'll smell vomit as clearly as they would blood. They _are right on our tail..._" Impossibly, he picked up his speed.

"_Great_," she managed, burying her face in his neck. It was hard and cold and her nose hurt from bumping against it, but she did it anyway. She loved his neck. Among other things.

"We'll lose them in the park," he said. "Variable winds!"

_The park?_ she thought. Forks Municipal Park, by the playground? It has "variable winds"?

"Open your eyes, Bella," he called over his shoulder after another age of running. "You'll feel better."

"Urrr," she replied.

"_Open them_," he insisted. "The moon! The view."

"Oh! Mountains_,_" she cried, lifting her head and gasping. "_That_ Park."

They had entered Olympia National Park. Edward flew along the very ridge of a steep incline, where the views cut away on both sides to the majestic snow-capped mountains. The rising moon, a slightly fattened crescent, sat with its tip resting on the snowy mountain peak in front of them, like a beacon.

Just before he reached the snow, Edward abruptly took a right turn and plunged back into the forest. Up a damn tree again, and they finally came to a halt. Bella was really starting to dislike trees.

Edward held her flat against him with one arm and held onto a branch with the other. He could feel her warmth from breast to thigh, her heart hammering in her chest. "I like playing Manhunt with you," he whispered. "It was a bit lonely before."

"Good," she said, ambiguously. "So who was chasing us again?"

"Tanya and Irina, untagged so far. They've made their own rogue team, thinking they can follow your scent and win this time. I was distracted; they got closer than they should."

"But we've lost them."

"For now. They're both good trackers though. They won't last; I thought I could smell Emmett on the westerly breeze."

"What does Emmett smell _like_?" she asked.

"Um, he smells like Emmett," Edward said, smiling. He had never tried to define and separate Emmett's particular scent, the way he regularly tried to put words to the _scent of Bella_.

He kept her soft form pressed tightly up against him and waited in dread. Would she have forgotten her question? _1968, goddamn 1968, _not exactly his favourite year.

"I don't want Tanya to win," said Bella, so fiercely that Edward pulled back to look at her.

_Jesus, did Bella know something already?_ _How could she? He had never told anyone the whole story. Alice didn't even know it._

"1968," she demanded again, as if she could see it stamped on his forehead. "Tanya."

"Tanya," he repeated, panicking inside. "What about her?"

"Alice told me that you two had a history."

"Hardly. Alice can't see the past, you know_._" His whole body was tense now, like he'd been thumped between the shoulder blades. He was not ready to tell Bella such a sordid tale.

"We had a date," he said at last, when Bella's gaze threatened to unravel him. "A single date. It didn't go well. Time to cross the valley. Team Emmett is officially on our trail."

Before Bella could say another word they were off again, this time for almost an hour, the run only interrupted by the occasional 'are you all right?' that he threw over his shoulder. They were now back on the ground, skirting a Lake that Bella had never seen before. She actually couldn't _see_ it; it was a black horizontal void, with no tree cover.

Edward came to a stop, put her down beside a thicket of Barberry and climbed on top of a boulder. He stood on it, closed his eyes and inhaled. He turned, this way and that, with his arms slightly elevated, like a weathervane. She could just make out his silhouette in the darkness.

"Does it mess up your..._radar_... if I speak to you?" Bella asked very quietly. She occasionally managed to remember that volume was completely unnecessary with Cullens.

"Not at all, love," he murmured. "Speak."

"Edward," she breathed. "Did you kiss her?"

**8&8&8&8&8&8&8&**

Well...review already if you haven't! Do it, do it, do it...


	8. Chapter 8: A Lovely Mouthful

Author's note: Thanks to encouragement and wonderful beta-ing by Kristi and Angel, and thanks to Littlechoo for candid comments. I continued to tweak after their assistance (can't leave the damn thing alone), so any errors are mine. Thanks to Blondie for validation!

Twilight characters belong to Stephanie Meyer.

**Chapter Eight: A Lovely Mouthful**

"Edward," Bella breathed. "Did you kiss her?"

He opened his eyes and almost laughed with relief. How innocent her question! How it revealed her inexperience!

"No." _This_ he could answer honestly. "I didn't want to."

Bella put her head down, trying to hide a broad smile. She was pleased with his answer, her faith in him restored - all under false pretences. It made him feel like shit.

"Is this the same night that you wrecked her car?" She cocked her head, curious.

"Yes. In Alaska. I underestimated the ice." He returned to his weathervane position, unable to meet her eyes.

"You _sank_ her car."

"Yesss." He was almost hissing. "It was humiliating."

"You don't like talking about it." Her voice was full of affection now, a teasing, loving affection about his pride as a driver. He didn't deserve it.

"It remains my only accident," he said indignantly, holding up his forefinger in the number one. He played right along.

"Alice said I was going to have an unpleasant conversation!" She laughed a little, and began hopping on one foot, then the other. She was cold_._ "But that wasn't so bad."

"Maybe you haven't had it yet," he muttered. Suddenly he straightened like a ramrod. "Emmett at two o'clock and closing," he reported, like a military dispatcher. He pointed into the darkness of the trees. "Rosalie just behind." He pointed up the hillside. "Irina at six o'clock maybe. Others just coming into range, around 9 o'clock. "

"Oh no!" Bella squeaked, bouncing on her toes excitedly.

"Someone," he swung around to face the lake, "Eleazar, I believe, is waiting for us in case we attempt to cross the lake." He smiled without opening his eyes. "They think you won't go in."

"_Go in?"_ she cried, mortified. "Damn right, I won't! The water will be freezing." She spun around to peer at the blackness of the lake.

Spinning while hopping was a bad move. Bella tripped backward, right into the Barberry thicket. Edward opened his eyes just in time to see her tumble.

"Ow, ow, _crap_," she said, wriggling her way out, with Edward's help.

"Shit, I'm too slow," he apologized, pulling her to her feet, and she observed once again that the Cullens had only started using obscenities since she had left high school, like it was some agreed rule between them. It was mildly patronizing.

"Oh, Bella," he said, inhaling, "you're scratched, I can smell the blood."

"No," she moaned, putting her hand to her back. "But it's so minor? Will they smell it too, Team Emmett?"

"Team Carmen," he said suddenly, his eyes closed.

"I thought Team _Emmett_ was coming."

He spoke rapidly now. "Yeah, but a careless thinker - um, it's Rosalie – just disclosed the position of Carmen's team. Rose caught their scent a few miles ago. We'll cross their path on the way to the house. Let's go!"

"_The house_? But why?" she cried. "Because of my scratch?"

"Exactly," he frowned. "This game is now just a little too much_ like hunting_. Womanhunt. Humanhunt. Bellahunt."

"But they're vegetarians!" she protested. "Wouldn't that be giving up? I don't want you to lose just because of me, human wuss."

"Human _beverage_, you mean," he amended. "We won't lose unless _we_ decide to, my sweet girl. We are too fast and too clever." He smiled impishly, and for a moment he looked even younger than seventeen. "Will you take off your shirt?"

"_What?" _She flushed instantly, looking up at him.

"Your shirt," he said, with no further explanation, picking up the end of the tie that held it together. "Quickly? They are almost upon us."

Bella nodded and he tugged the knot loose. She took it off, revealing a girlish blue gingham cotton bra.

"Sweet," he whispered. He did not look away. A month ago, he would have.

It took less than sixty seconds for him to scoop her up, run them briefly to the west, tie her minutely bloodstained shirt to the topmost tip of a tree, and then double back east through the shallow water, passing the boulder and thorny thicket. Then once again, he carried her up yet another needled, resin-sticky, so-tall-your-buttocks-clench, tree.

_Shh_, he indicated with his finger to his lips, and he pointed down below, where they had a narrow view of the boulder where he had just stood.

Light footfalls, that even Bella could hear, announced Team Emmett's arrival.

Bella peeked through the branches and saw Irina actually sniffing round the boulder, like a sleek blonde hunting hound. Bella held tightly to a limb and hardly dared to breathe.

Grinning in the darkness, Edward slipped his hands around her, beneath his own shirt – which she now wore – and moved his cold fingers across her bare skin. She shivered and moved closer, so that her face was an inch from his bare chest. He felt her back for the scratches, like a blind man reading Braille, then lay his fingers, spider-like, across each scratch, as if he could somehow seal them with light pressure. She tingled at every spot, at each and every cold skin cell-to-skin cell contact. She wondered wildly what Edward would do if she put her mouth on his nipple, right now. She wondered if vampires ever had sex in a tree. She would refuse, when she became one.

"They lingered here," Irina said, down below. "The scent is strong, we can't be far behind."

_The scent is strong because we're right above you, _thought Bella. She smiled at Edward's improvised plan.

"No footprints to the water," reported Tanya. _That's because we leapt there from a tree_. Bella was beginning to suss the strategies of the game.

"Fresh blood on the thorns here," called Emmett. His discovery had taken all of thirty seconds.

"Tracking circle!" he called out and immediately the five vampires made a circle with their backs to the thorny shrubs, where the blood scent was strongest. They shuffled forward, expanding the circle and inhaling. It was a bizarre scene - to human eyes anyway.

"_Got something_." Emmett turned westward, in the direction of the tree-top bloody shirt. "Let's go! Huh, leave it to Bella to fall in the ONLY thorny shrub species on the mountain," he laughed heartily, in pure, generous Emmett-fashion, as the vampires took off in his direction.

_Success!_ Bella looked back to Edward, who had both brows cocked high in anticipation.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Edward gave his head a sharp shake _no. _

_Rose, _he mouthed with no sound, pointing at the ground.

Rosalie, who Edward thought had particular aspirations to be clever tonight (she usually didn't care whether she was clever or not, only that she was beautiful), didn't follow her teammates, but stood still at the boulder, listening and inhaling for a full minute.

"I hear your heartbeat, Isabella Swan," she said in a low, smug voice. She peered into the trees.

"EMMETT MCCARTY!" she bellowed. "THEY'RE HERE!"

Bella screamed, because once again, she was going down like a stone. This time Edward held her in front, facing her and pushing her legs around his waist. They landed and Rosalie _lunged_. Bella felt the whoosh of air as Rosalie swiped at Bella's ankle, missing by inches. Edward somersaulted, head over heels, somehow moving Bella's feet in time so they wouldn't be squashed, and took off running.

"Keep me updated," he hollered to Bella as he streaked through the forest.

_What do you mean? _ she almost asked, but then she understood, as Rosalie came tearing through the trees behind them. Bella, being backwards, could see them coming – all of them – whereas Edward could only see one or two minds at a time.

"Rosalie...at fifty feet?" she cried, exhilarated to her very bones. "Fifty feet and closing!"

There was another crash of underbrush, and Irina and Tanya emerged. "Oh my God, two blondes from the right...I mean your left!" He veered accordingly.

Three more blurred, leaping, sprinting, trunk-and-fern-dodging vampires appeared through the trees. "More from the left - GO Edward, they're closing in!" she urged him frantically. "Twenty feet!"

Bella's heart thumped like a jackrabbit's; her adrenaline surged through her veins. She was terrified and overjoyed and high. She wanted to WIN. Bella, who never competed openly for grades, for the teacher's praise, and certainly not for points in gym class, wanted to win. She knew she must be slowing him down now, an unwieldy lump on the front of his torso. How could he possibly run at full speed?

As Team Emmett drew ever closer, running full out, she stared at their white faces: Tanya's, Emmett's, Rosalie's, Irina's, and Eleazar's. Was it bloodlust or just determination that gave them identical black-irised, lip-curled, terror-inducing expressions?

"Edward..." she moaned softly. "Ten feet and closing." Tanya was unfurling her arm, extending her elegant hand to make the official 'tag'.

Edward began to _laugh_. Laugh! "Watch, Bella," he shouted. "Watch, as we slip right through their fingers..."

"Holy _fuck_," cried Emmett, as Bella heard a sudden roar approaching from the other direction.

Edward leapt. He leapt up into one last despicable tree, and there was an almighty noise as two teams, Team Emmett and Team Carmen, collided at approximately 48 miles per hour. Each team had been running flat out toward the other, thinking they were chasing (or running to meet) their prize.

Amidst the chaos and the swearing and laughter that followed, Bella and Edward slipped away.

_**8&8&8&8&8&8&8**_

Bella had dozed off, wrapped up in Edward's flannel shirt and a soft blanket, and curled up on the Cullens' cushy sofa, when the sound of the huge, frameless sliding glass door woke her up.

"Oh!" said Tanya, entering the room. "_You're_ here. I thought I smelled...something."

"Mm," said Bella sleepily, pushing herself up and blinking in the light. "Yeah. Edward thought I shouldn't play since I was bleeding." She wasn't going to admit that she was also cold and tired, and that it had taken some arguing to get him to go back out again and continue the game.

Suddenly in a blur Tanya vanished, and reappeared in the same place seconds later, holding a towel and adjusting her shirt.

"Is the game still on?" asked Bella, glancing out the window for signs of dawn. It was still pitch black.

"Yes. He's completely disappeared again. Back in the National Park, I expect."

_Good_, Bella thought. _Go Edward._ "Variable winds there," she said, matter of factly.

"Mmm," Tanya agreed, drying her hair. She stared at Bella with the same intense scrutiny that had unnerved Bella the previous day. "I should have lain in waiting here in Esme's garden. I figured he'd have to bring you back. Of course, you're off limits here." The golden irises seemed to flicker without the appearance of blinking.

Bella stared right back. This was longest conversation they'd had. Ten sentences, probably.

"Why did _you_ come in?" Bella asked warily, somewhat reluctant to further the conversation at all.

Tanya rolled her eyes. "Rosalie insisted that I put on a bra, once it started to mist." She adjusted her shirt a bit over her breasts, and Bella noticed now that Tanya's long, red-gold hair was covered in fine white drops, like diamonds. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

"Nipples distract men from the game," Tanya continued, without embarrassment.

"Mm," Bella said, not wanting to comment on the subject of nipples. "Well. Good luck." _Now leave, one-date-Tanya. I want to sleep. _

But Tanya made no move to leave. She bit her lip and her nostrils flared, along with the never-ceasing bitch-stare. She was suppressing a torrent of feeling, Bella realized. She gripped the sofa cushion.

Tanya's face softened suddenly, like she was rearranging her expression for a photo, and she moved to the opposite sofa, placing the towel beneath so as not to ruin Esme's upholstery. "We should talk," she said.

"Um. All right." Bella sat up fully now, almost mimicking Tanya's perfect posture. _Be confident. Remember, he loves you. _

"You'll have to forgive me, Bella, if I have been a little unwelcoming," Tanya said, clasping her fingers together on crossed knees.

_A little? _Bella said nothing.

"You see, Edward is one of my _favorite_ men in this world," she said airly, as if she collected them like china figurines, "and I have been..._wary_ of any human girl that could upend his world so dramatically. It's not that I don't like you. I just don't have the measure of you yet."

Bella considered this a moment. "That's fair enough," she answered evenly. She tried to hold still, as still as a vampire. It was Tanya who jiggled her foot.

"However," Tanya continued, "the more time I spend in your presence, the more puzzled I become." Her blonde brows crinkled attractively. "I won't _bore_ you with my theories as to why he has fallen for you. And...I have been around long enough to know not to judge a person by their appearance."

A spectacular insult. Subtle, but piercing. Nothing obvious to quote back to Edward and get Tanya in trouble. Bella's jaw dropped a fraction.

"It is quite a shock, actually, to see Edward so happy. Happier than I've ever seen him in thirty-eight years." She lowered her chin, smiling. "It seems to be due all to _you._"

Surely that must have been difficult for Tanya to admit. Bella didn't know how she should respond. There was a verbal trap here, Bella was sure. A trap she could not dodge, obstruct or parry. "Yeah, he makes me pretty happy too," she said after a moment.

"We all wanted him, you know. My sisters and I." Tanya sighed and looked up to the ceiling. "Edward is quite..." she smiled to herself "...extraordinary. A man of real talent and integrity."

_Here it comes,_ thought Bella. The part where Bella is told what she already knows: that she is not worthy of Edward. Oh, the myriad of low blows Tanya could deal to Bella's self-esteem, the deficiencies and human inadequacies she could possibly point out! Bella steeled herself for the onslaught.

It didn't come. Instead Tanya jumped up, and began pacing back and forth across the room, completely uncharacteristic for a vampire.

"Give him a few hundred years and he will match Carlisle, in wisdom and worth," she said. She turned to face Bella. "Edward is so young, though, isn't he? Quite idealistic still. And such a fascinating conundrum of passion and restraint, he is! Sometimes I think the two will collide, and he will simply explode with feeling." There was a faint accent there, which somehow gave Tanya's words more drama.

Her eyes burned into Bella. "Don't you feel it? When he hunts? When he plays Rachmaninoff on the piano?"

Bella hadn't heard him play Rachmaninoff. She hadn't seen him hunt. "When he drives," Bella offered, weakly, gesturing with her palm open.

"Exactly." Tanya threw up her hands in agreement. "But on the other hand: such self-discipline... self-repression, even! It masks a man of fervor. A simmering mind of ideas and unrealized passions. His family insists on attending high school every decade or so, a ridiculous waste of time for a thinking man; I don't know how he endures it." She shook her head, blonde curls wagging. "As a human he would have grown up to be a man of great deeds; he might have been the D.A to bring down Capone, or perhaps he would have been the architect who designed the Sears Tower...he would written the New Deal legislation alongside FDR."

Bella squirmed. She did not want to discuss Edward's personality this way. Not with this woman, this vampire, this _rival_ whom he had not even kissed, but who was clearly in love with him!

"Our poor Edward." She wouldn't shut up. "Stuck as a seventeen year old vampire, his only outlets are cars and music and now...love. I am surprised – _very_ surprised – that he has not accidentally broken you in two," she laughed. There was a bitterness to the sound that was unmistakable.

Was Tanya referring to sex? Did she know Edward was still a virgin? Bella had no desire to enlighten her. "We've...we found ways to deal with his strength and...passion," Bella stammered.

"Have you really?" Tanya said, though her smirk indicated that she didn't believe a word. "Well, _that's_ good news." She stopped her pacing and put her hands on the back of the sofa, leaning forward with her intense gaze. "It must be so frustrating for you," she said softly. "He can't even kiss you properly."

"Of course he can," Bella snapped, her composure starting to crumble. "Edward's kisses are perfect." Ha, here was a topic at which Tanya could not throw her thousand-year-old authority. She'd never kissed him.

"You still have your tongue, though," Tanya smiled unpleasantly. "So you haven't had a proper kiss."

She paced again, now slowly, her eyes never leaving Bella. Her hips swayed; she was on display. She ran her fingers along Esme's objects d'art on the side table. "Missionary position is out," she continued. "All that thrusting would crush your pelvis."

Bella felt a blush color her cheeks. _Virgin_, said her reaction, but her eyes fixedly returned Tanya's stare. "You know, I'm not comfortable discussing this with you," said Bella crisply.

Tanya ignored her. "Cunnilingus – a no-no...unless you're an advocate of female circumcision," she snorted. She was on a roll now; she'd set her trap and had caught her green-as-grass victim. The teeth of that trap was sex, and no human could compete with a thousand-year-old succubus.

Bella's entire face burned now.

"Fellatio – forget it." Tanya shook her head with mock pity. "Edward could chip your teeth, even dislodge your windpipe when he really got going – it would kill you."

If Bella wasn't sure what exactly 'fellatio' meant before, she certainly understood its meaning now.

Tanya picked up one of Esme's candlesticks – a contemporary copper cylinder thing and held it in her hand, as if weighing it. "And that's _such _a shame – for you, I mean." She wrapped her fingers around the cylinder and looked right at Bella. "Because I can tell you that Edward is _quite_ a lovely mouthful."

Bella's insides turned to ice. _A lovely mouthful._ She might faint. _A lovely mouthful_ . Or throw up on Esme's knobbly raw silk upholstery. _A lovely mouthful._

Tanya was still speaking, but to Bella it sounded like she was in a box, or underwater. "Imagine if he'd been allowed to grow a bit older," Tanya said silkily, holding the candlestick close between her breasts. "At twenty-two he would have been _massive_."

Bella stood up. "You know, I'm really tired," she said, in a voice that was not quite her own. "I'm going to go home now." Bella walked stiffly to the kitchen, where she knew there was a key rack beside the door to the garage. She picked one off the hook with a trembling hand.

"You're taking _the Aston Martin_?"

Bella spun around. Tanya had followed her into the kitchen. She looked at the keys in Bella's hand with astonishment. Bella looked too. Even the key ring was beautiful, with the Aston Marton medallion sewn onto a leather tab.

"Yeah," said Bella indifferently. "The Aston Martin. And you should know that Edward is going to turn me." She moved to the door.

"_What?"_ Tanya's faux-friendly voice turned to steel. "Say. That. Again."

"You heard me." Bella's voice sounded dead, even to her own ears.

"I don't believe you," Tanya hissed.

"Don't then." Bella pushed a button on the wall and the wide garage door began its smooth ascent. Florescent lights came to life, lighting up a row of shiny automobiles. Bella stared again at the key in her hand. She had never driven any of the Cullen cars, not even Edward's Volvo.

"Is that what he told you?" Tanya called after her. "_I assure_ _you_ that Edward will not take a human life. He holds it in great esteem, just as Rosalie and I do."

Bella made her way to the beautiful car.

"He won't do it," Tanya insisted fiercely, from the doorway. She almost sounded panicked. "It is against his _most basic principles_."

"He will," said Bella, pushing a button on the key ring. The Aston Martin chirped, with a slight echo bouncing off garage walls.

"Th..Then you have altered him beyond recognition," Tanya declared, stammering.

Bella had made Tanya stammer. That was something, at least. Bella slid into the leather seat and found the button to adjust the leg room.

As she shut the door, there was a movement through the glass. Tanya had shot across the garage and was standing just outside the driver-side window. Bella looked up at the looming figure, the blackened eyes. Tanya's expression was murderous.

"Don't think, Bella Swan, that I will stand for it."

_**8&8&8&8&8&8&8**_

Yeah, sorry about another cliffie of sorts.


	9. Chapter 9: So Help Me God

**Howdy. Thanks for your patience. October was very demanding. And of course, all those pictures of Rob had to be viewed and re-viewed, which took up a lot of time. Compulsory writer's research, you know.**

**Thanks to betas Littlechoo (who writes a great Jasper – naked on the floor in the shower --check him out), Kristi and Angel for corrections, suggestions and encouragement.**

**Chapter 9: So Help Me God**

The Aston Martin Vanquish had been parked a block from Bella's house. At 7:30 am, Edward had found it unlocked with the keys tucked under the floor mat. No note, either at home or in the car. He decided not to be pissed off about that.

Bella had not been there to celebrate their Manhunt victory at dawn, nor to say goodbye to his family, disappointing Emmett and Esme in particular. Edward wasn't angry about this either, as he knew Bella must have been exhausted. No, he was _a very understanding boyfriend_.

What pissed him off thoroughly, however, was the presence of Jacob Black in Bella's front yard at nine o'clock in the morning. The boy was _hugging_ her. Obviously, they had made up-- this very morning, Edward presumed, as Jacob had come over to take back ownership of the Chevy truck.

"Great," he muttered ruefully to himself, peering at Jacob through the window. "Bella is going to reek." He pulled up to the curb.

There was a bang of the screen door, and Charlie came through the yard, lugging a heavy suitcase and speculating that it probably contained more novels than clothing. He hesitated and his eyes popped wide. Just then Edward realized that Charlie didn't know about the Aston Martin.

_Jesus H. Christ,_ Charlie said in his head.

_No. Just me_, thought Edward.

The criticism tumbled out of Charlie's brain: _spoiled eighteen year old, what sort of kid drives a $60,000 car, screwed up values...._etc. etc. Jacob's thoughts were along the same lines but envy, jealousy, and something like hatred were laced in between.

"$120,000, actually," Edward corrected under his breath, as he got out of the car. He figured the tenuous bond formed with Charlie on the fishing trip had just evaporated.

"Good morning, Chief Swan." He nodded and popped the trunk for Charlie.

Charlie grunted his greeting in return. He wrestled the suitcase into the trunk; Edward gave gentle assistance. Edward looked over at Bella, who had yet to turn around from her little tete-a'-tete with Jacob. Now he had his stinking paws on Bella's waist, just resting there -- as if he had some claim on her.

Charlie smirked a little and went back in the house for a final bag. Edward tuned out Charlie's uncharitable thoughts, leaned on the tailgate of the truck and glared at Jacob. Jacob took one hand off Bella's hip to give Edward the finger, which Edward duly returned. _Finally_, Bella turned around.

"Hello," said Edward softly, putting his hand back in his pocket. He would have stepped forward to kiss her hello, but there was something about her body language that told him not to. "Are you about ready?"

"Yeah," she answered, without really looking at him. "Bye, Jake. You'll email me, won't you? Don't be a stranger." There was something fragile in her voice, and Edward wondered for the thousandth time what was going on in her head and heart.

Jake's mind was unfortunately loud and clear. "Believe me, Bells, I will," he answered firmly. Determinedly. He looked down at her and he drew her into one more goddamn hug. "Christmas...seeya at Christmas," he choked out. _Will she be warm or cold, the next time I hug her?_ he worried, glancing at Edward for the answer.

Edward swallowed his irritation and waited patiently, without acknowledging Jacob's question. He knew exactly how it felt, saying goodbye to Bella. It was one of the most devastating moments of his existence, superseded only by news of her supposed death, but Edward wasn't generous enough to feel pity for this boy, this brash and ridiculous _pup_, who manipulated Bella's emotions by alternately offering and withdrawing his friendship.

Next were Charlie's goodbyes, and the stolid and sturdy cop got a little misty-eyed when his daughter clung to him. "That's enough now," he said gruffly, and at last Bella and Edward were buckled in the Aston Martin. Edward turned the ignition, the engine made its gorgeous noise, and Jacob gave a little haruumph to disguise his broken heart. He folded beefy arms across his chest and blinked back moisture that only Edward could see.

Charlie leaned into the open window. "I've given Bella some travel money, you know. She can pay for her own room."

"Okay," said Edward after a moment, when Bella didn't respond. _Oh, if you only knew the wanton and wicked designs I have on your daughter's body, _he thought with some sympathy_._ Charlie was a good man. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Charlie's eyes lingered on Edward a moment, with a stern look and a _don't forget what we talked about, son _in his head_. _ Edward just stopped himself from nodding in acknowledgement.

Then they were off, Charlie and Jacob waving and getting smaller, until they were around the corner. Edward left the window open a crack – the smell of wolf on Bella was almost overwhelming.

_You and I!_ _Road trip!_ Edward grinned at Bella – but only momentarily. Bella's face was turned away; she didn't see him; she silently watched Forks go by. He was ready to celebrate their freedom, to whoop and holler, crank up the music, and feel the engine's power. Then there was the surprise, of course, waiting for them in Seattle. Just thinking about it made him feel warm all over – at least psychologically if not physiologically.

"You're in charge of navigation, love," he pointed to the thick, spiral-bound map of the US on the dashboard. "Whatever route you want. After Seattle, that is. And music too – your choice. I've loaded the iPod to its limit."

"I'm in charge?" she murmured, still looking out the window.

"Sure. This is The Doobie Brothers...some good road trip tunes there. But change it if you like."

Bella turned her head and stared at the console for a moment, then reached out and hit the power button with a little more force than necessary. _Takin' it to the Streets_ was abruptly silenced.

_Okay._ Edward pursed his lips and took the first curve outside Forks city limits with similar unnecessary force. His buoyant mood sagged a little.

"So," he said eventually, unable to bear her silence, "what did you think of the Vanquish?"

Bella turned to him and frowned. Her eyes were puffy. "Vanquish?"

"The _Aston Martin_, Bella. Did you enjoy driving it? I assume that's how you got home last night."

"I..I didn't notice. I was tired. "

He blinked. "How could you _not notice_?"

Bella shrugged.

The fact that she did not apologize or belatedly ask permission to drive the Vanquish was a little uncharacteristic. Usually she was assiduously cautious with any of the Cullens' possessions.

_Something_, he thought, _ is wrong._

He lamented the failure of his gift, at times like these. Her body language was his only clue, and usually he could interpret irritation, humor, introspection, pride and (sigh) arousal in just the set of her shoulders, the position of her wrist, or perhaps a movement of her eyebrows. Other times, she baffled him. Like today.

"By the way..." he said, pulling an envelope from the centre console and offering it to Bella. "Our winnings," he said, trying again to sound cheerful. "We won Manhunt."

"Oh," she said, taking it slowly. She looked inside at the hundred dollar bills but said nothing.

Then Edward sensed, rather than saw, the start of Bella's tear. It rolled down her cheek and fell on the envelope with a splat.

"_Bella_?"

She wouldn't respond. She shook her head and turned her face away. More silent tears came; they had a scent all their own.

"Are you all right?" He pulled over onto the road shoulder.

She made a little noise, a half-suppressed sob.

"Hey...hey..." he said softly, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

She tried to straighten her posture, lift her chin, but then seemed to give up and crumple again. "Go," she whispered, waving her hand at the road. "GO."

Now Edward knew a thing or two about women, having witnessed a female mind or two in the moments just before tears. They cry. Sometimes in complete disproportion to the cause. Maybe he should just let it happen. Reluctantly, he pulled back on the road.

These could be tears of sentiment, he thought, a wistful farewell to her father and her childhood (though Bella was not overtly sentimental).

Or a way to release tension. (Women tended to cry; men tended to masturbate.)

Or PMS. (But it wasn't. He knew her cycle better than she did.)

Or regret. (She didn't want to go to Dartmouth with him after all...?)

Or Jacob Black. (_Oh shit.)_

By the time they reached Route 103, Bella was in a full blown, shoulders-shaking, face-in-hands crying jag. No longer silent, she curled over in her seat and sobbed her little heart out.

Edward was beside himself. "Bella...Bella, please," was all he could say, while he squirmed in his leather seat. He stroked her arm awkwardly; this time there was no place to pull over on the winding highway. "We'll see them again at Christmas." By "them", he was including Jacob, and Edward thought himself very generous to do so. He managed to fish a handkerchief out of his pocket, which she dismissed, choosing crumpled tissue from her purse instead.

The tears subsided into sniffles eventually, and just when Edward thought she might speak to him at last, damn it all to hell, she fell asleep.

PATIENCE PATIENCE PATIENCE he told himself, gripping the steering wheel. She is only eighteen. She is leaving home. She has had little sleep the past two days. Fucking Jacob Black, couldn't he have picked up the truck _after_ they'd departed? PATIENCE PATIENCE PATIENCE. Edward hit one hundred ten miles an hour whenever the road opened up a bit.

"Bella love," he said, touching her shoulder gently, over two hours later. "Wake up, we're at the ferry." She stirred and sat up, surprised. Her face was creased and her cheeks flecked with bits of mascara, and he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms. Still, she wouldn't look at him.

_It's not sentiment or tension, it's me. She won't look at me_. While she slept, he had worked himself into a ridiculous state of jealousy and self-doubt. Woodenly, he followed her up the steps.

It wasn't until they were standing on the deck, watching the cold navy blue water heave beneath them, that she finally turned and spoke to him.

"You never told me," she said without prelude, "if there was anyone else after Consuela."

"Pardon?" He stared at her, utterly bewildered. "Uh, you want to talk about this _right now_?"

"Yes," she said bravely. "Right now."

Bella had recovered –mostly -- from her emotional breakdown that morning. A good sob and a decent nap made her feel like a new woman. His distress over her tears had been a little satisfying too, but she knew this wasn't fair. She was punishing him before knowing the truth.

It was possible of course, that Tanya had made it all up, just out of spite. She seemed too clever for obvious lies, though; any blatant lie could be quickly called out. Bella conceded that it was possible Tanya had caught a glimpse of Edward naked at some point. Forty years of summer visits, of hunting in the woods and swimming in the ocean meant ample occasions where wet or dirty clothes would need to be shed. The truth was either completely innocent or completely devastating.

"After Consuela," Bella prompted again. She was giving him a vague opening now, a chance to make a voluntary confession before she confronted him. She raised her eyes to his face.

It was a thing of great beauty – even when twisted into a scowl.

"What _the hell_ does this have to do with Jacob Black?" he asked, accidentally.

"Nothing whatsoever," she replied, her eyes widening. He though t her tears were for Jacob?

"Then..._why _ were you crying?"

"Answer my question."

"Fine," he said wildly, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "The other women after Consuela. What do you want, names?"

_Names? In the plural? _"All right," she retorted, already regretting such an open question, already dreading an answer that added yet more women to Edward's catalogue of experience. Bella crossed her arms over her chest, as if to protect her tender heart.

"Well! Where to start? There was Olivia...but as Maid Marion, not Melanie." Edward gestured, as if to say _obviously._

"_Maid _Marion?" repeated Bella incredulously. "_What_?" The man standing next to them turned his head to look at them.

"Next was Audrey," he continued, a hard edge to his velvet voice, "either as a princess or as Holly Golightly. Both were charming. Audrey, however, was easily matched by Grace. Grace as any character really, but particularly in Rear Window."

"Grace Kelly," said the man over Bella's shoulder. "Classy. Shame about that Ranier guy."

"_Edward_—"

"In the seventies, it was all Jacyln – I never fell for Farrah –I prefer brunettes really-"

"Farrah Fawcett," guffawed the man. "I've got that poster somewhere."

"There was almost no one in the eighties." Edward shook his head. "Maybe it was all those perms."

"Meg Ryan was all right," suggested the man.

"Edward, STOP. It's not funny."

He took her elbow and they moved away from the man, who looked rather disappointed. "How about Michelle Pfeiffer?" he called out after them.

"You're right, Bella." Edward turned and peered at her intently. "It's not funny at all. I was utterly alone, despite living in a house with six other people. I could only yearn for women whose minds I couldn't read: film or television characters, basically. Women I could pretend had the intelligence and strength of character to tolerate a vampire. It was pathetic. There was _no one_ Bella."

His anger abated and he reached out to touch her windblown hair. "No one until you came into my life. And now...now...PLEASE tell me what the hell is wrong. Be honest with me, even if you..." he hesitated, afraid of her response. "Even if you think it will hurt me. Your silence terrifies me this morning."

_Maybe_, she thought, just maybe Tanya was lying.

"I will be honest, Edward," she said earnestly, "if you promise the same. Full disclosure."

He sighed, his dead heart aching in his chest. He had nothing to disclose, other than that he loved her.

"Okay." She wrapped her arms around herself. "Tanya told me that you were _a mouthful_."

Edward did a slow blink of surprise. "Uh...Tanya?"

"A mouthful," Bella repeated, a blush hitting her face like a red iron.

Edward gave his head a little shake, as if to clear his ears. "Do you mean 'Edward Anthony Masen Cullen'? You should hear her name; her full moniker consists of ten barely pronounceable Slavic names." Edward had no idea where this was going. "Wait...you _spoke_ to Tanya?"

"A LOVELY MOUTHFUL," insisted Bella, leaning forward and hugging herself even more tightly.

Time seemed to stretch into eternity while she watched comprehension dawn on his face.

Edward froze. He swallowed. His mouth opened and no words came out. He stared glassily at Bella. Oh. _That_ disclosure.

"WHAT did she say to you?" he roared suddenly, attracting glances from a few nearby passengers.

Bella drew back physically but not mentally. "I just TOLD you what she said."

"But...But...WHEN?" he spluttered. His thumbs were making impressions into the steel railing. "You had a conversation? What ELSE did she say?"

"Why? Do you want to call her first and make sure your stories are consistent? Text her maybe?" Bella asked savagely, tapping his chest where his phone sat in his jacket pocket. Fury rose in her like a wave. Fury followed by despair. _It was true, it was true_, his face said it all. Tanya had had her mouth on him.

"Tell me _exactly_ what Tanya said," he demanded in a hoarse voice. Hairline fractures were beginning to appear in the rail beneath his fingers.

Bella stared into the distance because she couldn't possibly look at him now. "She said that as a human I could never give you a fellatio, and that it was a shame, because you were a 'lovely mouthful'."

_A fellatio_. He would have laughed if he could and told her that the word 'fellatio' is never preceded by an article. "That is_ completely_ misleading," he cried, putting his face in his hands. "And out of context."

"Out of context? _Really._ Please, please tell me," said Bella slowly, "exactly what context would be acceptable. You were standing there naked and she happened to walk by and trip? With her mouth open?"

"Not...not exactly." _Vampires don't trip_, he thought, ridiculously.

He shook his head and leaned down to press his forehead against the now cracked railing. "Oh Bella Bella," he groaned. "I didn't want you to know this story."

"Well, that's clear. You thought you'd just send me off to Florida every time the Denalis dropped in? You weren't afraid of leaving me with a bunch of vampires, you were afraid of leaving me with Tanya!"

"Yes...because I figured she'd be awful to you! She'd make some cruel comment about humans or our age differences or something...I didn't think she'd say THAT. _Jesus."_

"You told me you'd never had sex," Bella croaked softly, feeling the tears threatening again. "Why did you lie to me?" Her vision swam; the approaching buildings of Seattle looked like grey, watery lumps.

"I did NOT lie," he said angrily, straightening his posture. "I am a virgin. You know that."

"A virgin, a virgin. Is this according to the Bill Clinton definition of sex?"

He wrinkled his forehead. "What does that mean?"

"Bill Clinton? Monica Lewinsky? He declared publicly that he did not have sex with his intern, but she was giving him blow jobs every week in the Oval Office. That is sex."

Edward steadied himself. He was not used to his sweet Bella using words like "blow job". "I would have thought you too young to remember that scandal," he muttered.

"My mother, embarrassingly, has Monica Lewinsky's autobiography. When I was ten I thought she was so pretty on the cover. A few years later I opened it and learned what a blow job was."

"A fine sex education," he said, scowling again, "via Monica Lewinsky."

She set her jaw, determined not to cry. "Give me the truth, Edward. You promised. Full disclosure."

"God _damn it_," he cried, raking his hand through his hair roughly. "That's not fair. I thought you meant...I thought you were going to tell _me _something. I suppose I should be glad," he gave a harsh laugh.

She waited, waited to hear the truth. They both jumped when the captain's voice came over the loudspeaker, telling everyone to return to their cars, to prepare to disembark. People began shuffling past them.

Edward took a deep breath. Bella's scent mingled with the salt water, the ferry fuel, Seattle pollution, the seagull droppings, the unique and individual scent of each passenger around them. God, he loved her.

"Bella," he sighed, defeated. He stared into the water. "Perhaps you will let me relay the entire story, from the beginning," he said formally, "in the hope that the event for which you condemn me so harshly will be... judged fairly."

"Unabridged," she insisted.

"Unabridged," he agreed, wincing.

"Let's shake on it," she said, holding out her hand. "The truth, the whole truth. and nothing but the truth."

He looked down at her hand for a moment, then wrapped his fingers gingerly behind hers and held her palm against side of his face, closing his eyes. "So help me God."

_Don't leave me. Not over this._

_******_

_WHERE, you might say, is the flashback? I know, I know, I _promised.It just took a while to get Edward to a place where he was forced to tell Bella. Anyway, the flashback is written and beta'd and ready to go. I'll post it within 24 hours. I crave your encouragement....


	10. Chapter 10: Premature Ejaculation

Holy Moly, thanks for all the reviews last chapter! It was like waking up to Christmas morning. You don't know how it spurs me on. Constructive criticism is always welcome too.

Thanks to beta gals Kristi, Angel and writer Littlechoo. I fiddled with it after they gave it back, so any errors are mine. Stephanie M. owns all this Twilight rot.

The flashback begins...

**Chapter 10: Premature Ejaculation**

**September 1968. Highway 8, 120 miles north of Anchorage, Alaska, **

_Edward in a pearl grey formal frock coat, a white rose boutonniere on his lapel. Edward at the altar, nervous, smiling, waiting for his bride. Edward happy. Edward content._

"Esme, please stop that," groaned Edward, fisting his hand in his hair.

"Sorry, sorry." Esme smiled sheepishly. She quickly turned her mind to wallpapers, a green and gold flocked Sanderson.

"Nothing may come of this. Nothing. _Please_ lower your expectations." Edward dreaded disappointing them again.

Esme twisted in the front seat to look back at him. "Edward, there are three of them. Three _vegetarian_ women, all unmated. Surely one of them will appeal to you."

He was not overly optimistic. Mere attraction would not be enough for him. Despite all his efforts to remain open-minded, he had involuntarily compiled a checklist during the long drive from Michigan. Integrity, honesty, generosity, and intelligence were key, of course, but others (like 'a well-developed sense of irony') were getting a little too specific.

Edward had witnessed love of the highest and deepest kind, three times already in his own family. What was the likelihood of finding a soulmate (list aside) among three random vampire women?

It had taken some persuasion on Carlisle's part to get Edward to even make the trip. Edward clung to some literature-inspired notion that love could not be chased, that it would (or would not) come to him eventually. The deliberate pursuit of a mate was almost distasteful to the human side of him. In his opinion, it only belonged to eras and cultures where procreation or financial security were priorities. The feral side of him, though, had fantasies of chasing down his mate like an afternoon meal and fucking her senseless beneath the trees.

He was also feeling just a little bit desperate by now. The addition of lovebirds Alice and Jasper in the previous decade had been an egregious reminder of just how lonely he was.

"Yes, maybe," he answered Esme at last. "Hopefully. But will I appeal to one of them?"

She shook her head and smiled. "Of course you will, dear. You are universally appealing."

Carlisle chuckled and shifted the Mercedes up a gear. Light, intermittent snowflakes flew at the windshield. "Spoken like a true mother, Esme."

Edward lounged across the back seat and returned to his Tolstoy novel, but looked up again a minute later. "How soon do you think I should tell them about my gift?"

"Hmm," mused Carlisle. "If you tell them right away they'll be more guarded– and possibly uncomfortable. Or," he chuckled again, "don't tell them at all and you'll be able to sort out the one you like a little more efficiently." He suddenly pictured Edward on "The Dating Game" (a television show that made Emmett roar with laughter) where the women gave one answer but thought another. Edward scowled. Carlisle so rarely teased him.

"Guarded?" said Esme to Carlisle. "Only you can do that, darling. For any length of time, anyway."

It was true. Not even Edward's siblings could block him for more than twenty minutes, and they'd had decades of practice.

"They'll see it as rude and invasive," Edward interjected. "The longer I wait, the more violated they'll feel afterwards."

"Why don't you wait just a little bit," suggested Esme. "Just long enough to be polite. Then when you think someone's thoughts are straying into compromising territory, you can reveal your gift."

"That is usually _right_ away," muttered Edward, settling back into his book. He assumed vampire women wouldn't be influenced by his appearance, and he wouldn't have to put up with the endless barrage of lusty yearnings he got from humans.

They drove on, deeper into the wilderness. Carlisle decelerated as they passed a gas station, the only sign of civilization they had seen in an hour. He pointed at a sagging phone booth across from the gas pumps. "Last chance, son. You can simply ask Alice which one."

_Or none._ Edward was briefly tempted. "No," he said, shaking his head. "I want to find out for myself."

"The slow discovery of love is one of its greatest delights," murmured Esme, and Edward wished he knew what she was talking about.

_**8&8&8&8&8&8&8**_

"Hello Carlisle, how nice to see you again," said the blonde, taking Carlisle's hands and kissing him on both cheeks, European style. "And you must be Esme... and Edward, of course. Thank you for the flowers – lovely. Please come in, I'm afraid it's snowing already."

They were gorgeous, all three of them – but that was to be expected. Platinum blonde, strawberry blonde, streaky blonde. Breasts, legs, dimples, lashes, smiles, and a subtle smell of pheromone-washed venom, all crowded into a small entryway with the Cullen's luggage. Edward could hardly breathe, hardly think, hardly distinguish one girl's thoughts from another's. They were _assessing_ him. Immediately. Though Carlisle hadn't implied in his correspondence with the coven's leader (Tanya: curvy, strawberry curls, _shrewd_ thought Edward) that Edward was here to scope out a possible mate, the girls clearly had the same goal.

_Lanky_, they thought. _Long fingers, _noticed one_, _during handshakes and exchanges of names._ Intelligent eyes, _thought another. He was quickly judged handsome enough, but this was regarded a minor detail, thank God. They wondered at his perpetual age and his real age.

Edward had never felt self-conscious in his whole vampire life, until this moment. He knew his eternal haircut did not suit the current style of the 60's, that his legs and elbows were a little skinny, that his face was perhaps a bit youthful . It irritated him that he suddenly cared what they thought.

Edward had always dismissed the judgments of human acquaintances, mostly because he didn't give a damn, and later because he knew to discourage any potential friendships. Humans pegged him as a stiff intellectual, once they recovered from the appeal of his vampire traits. Maybe they were right. _Pedantic_, Jasper sometimes called him. _A pain in the ass_ was Rose's assessment. Was it true? Was he likable at all?

He must be himself, if he were to find a compatible mate. He half-dreaded reading their minds. He usually discovered that few people were genuine; their thoughts immediately betrayed them. For now, the girls' smiles were sincere; their thoughts matched their words. He found their soft Russian inflections charming, their faces open and alluring. He felt hopeful.

"Would you like to sit?" asked Tanya. "We practice human habits as often as possible around here – please come into the living room. We have a _sofa_," she smiled. Edward followed, watching the sway of her hour-glass shape. She had a walk like Sophia Loren, he thought. Sexy.

"We participate in a lot of human activities, too." replied Edward. "Practice makes us appear more credible. We rarely have visitors to the house, but we use tables, chairs, a full kitchen even."

"Beds?" asked Tanya with a little smile, and Edward stared at her, trying to read if she was flirting or really asking. Vampires didn't need beds to have comfortable sex, but all the Cullen couples had them – and used them constantly, to Edward's dismay.

The log cabin-cum-house was modest in size and decor, the furniture at least a decade old. When Edward sat down he felt the all the worn pills of fabric against his fingertips. The girls spent their money on clothes and shoes, he decided, and nothing was left for the house. The heating smelled coal-fired, and the temperature just hovered around 32 degrees Farenheit. Electricity was probably from a generator, and only used when necessary. He wondered how they kept their water pipes from bursting.

_**8&8&8&8&8&8&8**_

"Wait," interrupted Bella. "Are you saying that the Denalis don't have money?"

"_Didn't_," Edward corrected. "They do now, thanks to Alice and me and our uncanny stock market talents. The house is huge now, fully heated, multiple bathrooms – very elegant in a rustic lodge sort of way."

Bella stared at him. "But...don't all old vampires have money?"

"No," he shook his head. "That's a cinema stereotype."

"The Volturi were loaded."

"Volturi are long time landowners. They've got ties to both the Sicilian mafia and, believe it or not, the Vatican. Whatever money the Denalis had, they lost when the Czar fell. They came to America penniless. Most vampires are nomadic, stealing whatever they need. Anyone who tries to settle – tries to maintain a house, like a human – needs money. And it's hard to hold a job, unless you're a vegetarian who lives in a cloudy locale."

"True," she agreed, taking another bite of sandwich. They were in a Seattle deli, and Edward sat opposite her in the booth, pretending to eat fries. He wasn't trying very hard, though he had squirted a puddle of ketchup for show.

"It's weird," she said. "Hearing this story. I can't imagine you being self-conscious like that...almost shy. I never made you feel that way," she muttered, petulant.

"There was much expectation riding on this visit, on both sides," he said dully. "I felt a bit like a horse at auction. And as for you," he looked at her wistfully. His eyes were sad. "You make me feel quite desperate."

His shoulders were slumped; he had embedded his chin in his palm and he stabbed a French fry repeatedly with the side of a fork, hacking it to death. The story could only get worse, she knew. Ending with a blow job. Bella pushed her plate away.

"Go on," she said, bitterly. "Unabridged."

_**8&8&8&8&8&8&8**_

They sat in the unlit living room, and stories were exchanged, mostly about how they all came to be vegetarians, a term which made Kate laugh. "We call ourselves 'humanists'," she said. "But 'vegetarian' sounds less pretentious." Edward liked this comment. Maybe, just maybe, he could like Kate, he thought.

Tanya was deep in conversation with Carlisle, though her eyes flickered toward Edward every thirty seconds or so. It was customary for Coven leaders to exchange token gifts, pay mutual respect to one another, and agree terms of contact when two covens met up. Tanya's thoughts were pleased when Carlisle still observed this long-standing convention - despite his unconventional lifestyle. Carlisle brought a valuable gift: a stock tip from Alice.

Irina got up and began lighting candles - not that the vampires needed them to see. She looked very feminine and old-fashioned in a long hippy-like skirt, her hair coiled in a blonde rope at her neck. Her silhouette could be mistaken for that of an Edwardian woman. He thought fleetingly of his dead mother. Maybe, he wondered, he could like Irina.

"So how old are you, Edward?" she asked, blowing out the match, and Tanya's attention was instantly diverted to the question.

"My true age is fifty," he said. "Carlisle turned me in 1918. And then Esme soon after."

_So young, _thought all three girls simultaneously.

"And...your perpetual age?" asked Tanya, while she tried to guess at his answer.

"Seventeen," he replied, and Tanya's thoughts rioted: _Not even fully grown! He looks twenty. How big is his cock, I wonder? Does he suffer from premature ejaculation?_

_Shit_, thought Edward.

"Was this during the Spanish Flu?" asked Irina politely, while inside she thought _ I hope he is not a brat. I wonder at his stamina... seventeen...surely he comes too quickly._

_Double-shit._ "That's right. I was dying in a Chicago hospital, along with my parents and millions of others, of course."

"Oh how sad," said Kate, thinking _timing could be a problem. Teen boys bounce back quickly, though, don't they? It could make up for a minuteman. _

_And TRIPLE SHIT. _"Uh, I should-probably-let-you-know-about-my-ability," he exclaimed a little too loudly.

"OH?" said Tanya, intrigued. She leaned forward and gave a smile that would have given any human male heart failure. "Are you _gifted_, Edward?" Her mind flitted cheekily in and out of the gutter.

Carlisle was looking at him with mild surprise.

"I can read minds," said Edward, meeting Tanya's eyes straight on.

There was a beat of silence.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry," exclaimed Kate, suppressing a giggle. She belatedly slapped her hand over her mouth.

Irina gave a little squeak. "Oh _dear_," she said. "I...I wasn't thinking...I mean...I apologize."

Esme's eyebrows were up under her bangs, looking back and forth between the girls.

Tanya levelled an astonished, curious look at him. It was almost challenging. "How extraordinary," she said. _And you can read my mind right this very second? _she tested him.

He gave the smallest nod.

_Images too? Sounds? _And she flashed him the briefest visual: a blue night, his face in profile hovering over hers, his hands in the snow on either side of her bare shoulders, her hands in his crystal-flecked hair. He moves against her, just once, with a guttural 'huhh'.

"Those too," he croaked.

Edward paused, cringing visibly, hoping against hope that Bella will ask him to halt the story. They were back in the car, in an east Seattle suburb, and they drove in silence for a few minutes.

"Why are we stopping here?" asked Bella, when Edward pulled into an office complex.

"I have to pick up something," he replied tersely, opening the door. "I'll be right back." She watched him through the window. He was angry; she could see it in the way he walked. He disappeared into a side entrance, behind a row of dental and medical supply companies.

Less than two minutes later he was back. He flung a small, square parcel onto the dashboard and it slid across to Bella's side. It was wrapped elegantly in purple handmade paper with a gauzy purple ribbon. She felt a moment of yearning, a desire to put this fight behind them and love him spotlessly again. He was alone then, back in 1968. Alone and lonely. It was before Bella was even born. Why did it matter?

_Because he hadn't told her._

She bit back her curiosity and did not pick up the parcel.

Instead she said, very quietly: "What is the big deal about premature ejaculation?"

_**8&8&8&8&8&8&8**_

A/N: Shouldn't be quite so long until the next chapter, guys. Yeah, sorry, I think some of you were expecting the whole flashback in one chapter. There's enough material (in my mind anyway) for it to take a couple of chapters. The whole story of Edward meeting the Denalis and rejecting them has surely been explored in fanfic somewhere, but I've got my own ideas. I'll try to edit and cut to the heart of the plot... not always easy when you get too close to a story and lose all objectivity. You can get really _verbose. _Like now...

Feel free to discuss premature ejaculation and other fun topics ;) on the Abridged Account Twilighted thread at http:/www[dot]twilighted[dot]net/forum/viewtopic[dot]php?f=33&t=6132 .


	11. Chapter 11: 1968 All Over Again

**Chapter 11: 1968 All Over Again**

"_What_ is the big deal about premature ejaculation?"

Edward put his hand briefly across his eyes. He had just thrown a ring-box-shaped package on the dashboard and she didn't even acknowledge it. Not that it was a ring, but still....

He put the Vanquish in gear and peeled out of the parking lot like a seventeen-year-old with something to prove.

"Bella." He shook his head and whipped out into traffic. "It's a 'big deal' to women who make sex their life's work. They don't want a lover who is eternally...um, arriving too soon."

"_Their life's work_??" she repeated, snorting. "Listen to yourself! Doesn't that seem just a little warped to you? Shouldn't they have been more concerned whether you were a good person? Whether you'd get along as a couple? Not whether your...your _dick_ is big enough for them!" She held out her hands, in approximation of a measurement.

_Jesus._ Now Bella had said 'dick' and 'blow job' in the same day. What next? Should he be relieved that she could say these words without blushing, like an adult? Or had his unabridged stories tainted what used to be a tender, rose-coloured expectation of lovemaking? (Perhaps it was his own expectation that was tender and rose-coloured...)

He glanced over; she _was_ blushing. Oh, thank God. He would be very sad the day Bella stopped blushing.

"It's a natural reaction for them," Edward tried to explain. "Don't forget that vampires often have very specific abilities. It is simply the Denalis' particular manifestation."

"That's the _worst _excuse I've ever heard for being a pervert. The Denali girls' gift is...sex?" She was incredulous.

"Well, _yes. _The art of sex and seduction. It constantly preoccupies them, and they are always in pursuit of the exciting, most challenging, most glorious_ lay_. They want to give the best and get the best."

"What a shallow existence," she said, tossing her chin a little, to mask a feeling of utter _inadequacy_. They were sex artists. They probably did it ALL, and did it well. Whatever ALL was. Probably stuff Bella never even thought of.

"Shallow, perhaps," he replied, shrugging. "I thought so at first, too. It has resulted in a most interesting life though. Tanya was mistress to King Louis XIII; Kate and Tanya both bedded men of the powerful Medici family. Irina was lover to artist Vassily Kandinsky, as well as Tsar Dimitryi the Second."

"_What?_ But they weren't vegetarians then! How did they manage not to kill them?"

"Love," he said simply. "They loved their human conquests."

"Yeah, _right_," she scoffed, feeling her stomach clench. Bella would like to think that Tanya did not seem capable of loving anyone but herself, but...but.... Oh, _the way_ she had talked about Edward! "A fascinating conundrum of passion and restraint", Tanya had described him. Why did her admiration upset Bella more than the words 'he is quite a lovely mouthful'??

Bella stared out the window at the grey, dwindling suburban landscape. A fat drop of rain hit the windshield, immediately followed by another – like tears from the sky. _I will not cry, _she told herself. The terrain was rising again, the road heading straight for the northern ranges of the Rocky Mountains that lay east of Seattle. Shrouded in misty clouds, their slopes didn't look that different from the mountains she had left behind near Forks. Bella felt like she was going in circles.

"You know how the 16th century Italian City-States were always warring with each other?" continued Edward, perking up a little. He loved history, even though he had claimed to be "bored to death" (his little joke) in Mr. Cormack's Modern History class their senior year. Bella nearly rolled her eyes.

"I suppose."

"Well, the Denalis were always picking off the enemies of their lovers. Historians always assumed the murders were political assassinations – which they were, in a sense. Vampiric assassinations. King Louis and the Emperor lost a lot of lesser servants, I'm afraid, and the odd subversive Duke. Something not documented in the record books. Has anyone told you Kate is in a Claude David painting in the Louvre, standing in a doorway in the background? "

"No."

"The painting indicates her status as mistress; she stands separate from the queen and courtiers."

"Okay," Bella snapped. "I don't want to hear anymore about the Denalis' celebrated and fascinating lives. As the mistresses and never the wives, I might add-"

"Not alwa-"

"Why didn't you choose Kate or Irina? They seem so much nicer."

He hesitated before answering this one. Perhaps if he had made his preference for Kate clearer at the beginning, Tanya would have left them alone, would have abandoned the quest that she pursues even today, nearly forty years after he rejected her. Why hadn't he chosen Kate outright?

But he knew exactly why. It was those damn books, brought home from the shop, sitting under her bed. Hundreds of them. And it was all squelched anyway, before it even began.

No, he was slated for Bella, he decided, long before she was even born. His lovely, naive, goading, infuriating Bella.

"Bella," he growled, perfectly negotiating a sharp curve. Normally he would enjoy taking the Vanquish through its paces – he felt no joy today. "I didn't choose anyone at all."

"Ah, so you were helpless then. You fell for Tanya's tricks," she accused quietly.

He could not deny it.Tanya had turned her gift on him and he had succumbed, like hundreds (thousands?) of men before him.

Bella didn't wait for an answer. "Tanya must be good, really good. Is she? With her hands? With her mouth?"

"I'm not stupid enough to answer that," he said through gritted teeth.

"Then get on with the story!" she cried. "How did you go from polite conversation in their living room to getting head?"

"Getting head," he repeated, horrified. He stared through the rain-mottled windshield in front of him. "GETTING HEAD. Who the hell are you, and why are you using such language all of a sudden?"

"_Because!" _ she said defensively. "You're still tiptoeing politely around the subject! Don't treat me like an ignorant adolescent."

"Then _stop acting like an adolescent_," he snarled. "Obscenities do not indicate maturity! Or knowledge either. I've been pretty frank, damn it – but not gratuitously. You _are_ a lady; there is no reason to try out every profane euphemism invented by man."

"A LADY. Oh, GET me OFF that Victorian pedestal, would you?" she said savagely. "This is the twenty-first century and everyone uses those words. I've read snippets of Cosmo at the grocery store, like thousands of other teenage girls; I've seen The Sopranos. I GET the jokes on Family Guy. I know exactly what happens." She deflated suddenly and looked away, leaning her forehead against the window. "Maybe you don't have to tell me, after all," she muttered, miserable. "Maybe I already know."

"You do, do you?" his voice crackled with anger. "That's a damn big assumption."

"I can guess. " She could picture it even. His jeans pulled open just enough, her blonde curls spilling over his thighs, her head bobbing in the narrow space between the steering wheel and his abdomen. He's trying to drive the car, while Tanya performs her 'art' on him, because he thinks he can drive through anything. Then, with his face screwed up in ecstasy, he closes his eyes when he climaxes. It's only a moment of blindness, but he runs right off the road, right into the lake.

Bella could imagine his groan too -- just like in the meadow, deep and throaty. She remembered his rapid breaths, the wild, gorgeous look of lust in his eyes. The ardent, pleased expression on his face afterwards, the poetry.

Wait. WAIT. That was all_ for me._ _For me!_

_I can do this too._

Bella swung her head around to look at Edward; his long frame, his beautiful profile, his mouth in a thin, angry line, his lean, muscular forearms exposed while he gripped the wheel.

"I can do this too," she said aloud.

She released her seatbelt.

"Jesus, Bella, buckle up," he hissed. "We're on a wet mountain road."

"Pull over then." She reached over with her right hand, heading straight for the buttons of his fly.

"No." He caught her hand. "NO." He eased back on the accelerator.

"Let me," she cried, twisting in her seat. "Let me try, _please_. I know what to do."

"This is crazy," he said, taking an uphill curve with one hand on the wheel and the other firmly gripping hers. "Get back in your seat, goddamn it. Put your seatbelt on."

Her left hand was still free, and awkward as it was, she plunged her hand between his legs. "I'm going to take out your cock -- your lovely mouthful," she declared huskily. Her voice seemed to be coming from someone else, some other more determined, confident woman. Human sex goddess. She felt hyperaware: the pouring rain, the shadow and weight of the looming mountain crags, the stitching on the seam of his Levis. She could _feel _his balls through his jeans.

"FUCK," he gasped, braking erratically. The car behind them honked. She felt him twitch in his jeans. She dragged two fingers upward, tracing the outline of it.

"OFF," he begged her.

"LET ME," she begged back. He _would_ agree; he would give in. She could seduce him, despite her inexperience, because she loved him far more than Tanya could imagine.

Bella tugged at the first button, her eyes glued to his face. She wanted to see the 'turn'—the moment of assent, the instance of capitulation. It would be her human moment of triumph over the scheming blonde vampire. His expression was... agony? Pleasure? His eyes, however, were on the rearview mirror.

"_HOLD ON,"_ he warned, and then he shot his arm out, flinging her body back into her seat as he applied the brakes, using his best judgement of momentum, velocity, road friction, her body weight, the shape of the curve in front of him, the proximity of the irritated driver behind him, the properties of ABS technology, the width of the road's shoulder, and the physics of a skid.

They spun into a 180 degree turn and Bella could only watch in horror, pinned to her seat by his concrete arm. The little purple package seemed to slide in slow motion, back across the dashboard to Edward's side.

They came to a stop, perfectly parallel to traffic but facing the wrong way, on the shoulder of the road. The passing car gave them gave one last blare as it (also) skidded by. The Vanquish sat on a narrow ledge, with a horizontal steel railing between them and a drop of 100 feet or so. A drop down to a lake. A goddamn lake.

It was like 1968 all over again.

**October 1968 Fairbanks, Alaska**

"It's...a dance hall. A country-western dance hall." The corners of his mouth twitched.

"Well, it _used _to be a smaller place. A coffee-swilling, poetry-exploring , beatnik kind of place." Her amber eyes scanned the crowd. Edward and Tanya stood to the side of the doorway, deciding whether to go in.

"I guess central Alaska wasn't ready for poetry. When were you last here?"

"About seven years ago."

"Don't get out much, huh?" he teased.

"No, sadly," Tanya feigned. _Not around here. Rednecks, oil workers and unemployed razor clam shuckers. Not a nice smell._

"Picky, picky," he tutted, reminding her that he can read her mind.

"Are ya payin' or not?" asked the doorman, a grizzly-bearded fellow, who did smell faintly of cephalopods, thought Edward.

"We're not exactly dressed like the locals," she whispered to Edward at vampire speed. She wore a black stretch mini-dress with sheer black stockings and patent leather boots. He was clad in all black as well, as per her recommendation. All they needed was a copy of Kerouac's On the Road and matching berets, and they'd be exactly ten years out of date. The crowd was clearly fashion-ignorant; they wore bland, Sears-issue clothing with occasional touches of country-western peculiarities, like snap buttons and pointed shirt pockets.

"Do you dance?" asked Edward, warming to the idea. Couples of all ages were turning on the floor, to a slow wheezy waltz.

"Naturally," she answered and he fished two dollars out of his wallet for the doorman. He put his hand on the small of her back, and –_bam—_just like that, it was suddenly a date.

He had not intended for it to go this way. No, up until two days ago, he thought he might be courting Kate. Sort of. Until he saw the books. Until she turned to him, with her head full of rapid, emphatic Russian syllables, and said serenely: "I'm taking Carlisle and Esme to Juneau for a few days. You should stay here, get to know Tanya."

_Without a chaperone? _ was his first ridiculous thought (though he saw the same question in Esme's head). As Irina had already 'fled' his mind-reading three weeks prior, he would be alone in the house with Tanya.

Baffled, indignant...relieved? He wasn't sure how he felt about Kate's departure. Immersed in his own prickly, brooding thoughts, he had sunk into the sofa the moment the Mercedes pulled out of the drive and had put his nose unsociably into his book, a novel about a fictional poet in 19th century Ireland. He was determined not to be interested in Tanya; he wondered if he was being manipulated somehow.

How unprepared he was for the subterfuge (he termed it later) of the third, remaining sister! As soon as they were alone, Tanya had settled across from him with a _better novel_ (written by a real Irish poet). He could read it through her head of course. She was amused in all the right places; she understood the author's subtle digs at the British. He began to search her mind to learn if she'd spent time in Ireland or the British Isles... and more curiously, _when_? But she gave nothing away; she focused intently on the story. Within four hours, he couldn't help himself; he wanted to discuss her novel, his novel, and the credibility of the setting of both.

Within twenty-four hours, he found himself unable to keep his eyes or mind on either book, as Tanya was frankly the far more appealing thing to look at. Within forty eight hours, he was hinting at a date, surprising himself even as he said the words. _Let's see if this coffeehouse is still in business, _he had said, after she had mentioned an eccentric ex-Berkeley alum who supposedly led poetry readings on Saturday nights in Fairbanks.

"Mm," Tanya had replied slowly, like a purr. "All right." It was as if she had suddenly turned a switch _on_, or had finally put on her colours whereas before she only wore camouflage. Not literally, of course. Tonight she was elegant and sexy as hell in all black. He couldn't help but gape at her sheer-stockinged legs, knees demurely together, as she swung them into the passenger side of her 1961 BMW.

Now here they were, on something like a real date. He led her in a proper waltz, a dance he always thought fitting for a courtship. She smelled really fantastic, even for a vampire. Her legs went on forever, her full breasts bounced exactly the right amount as she danced, her back arched as if she _... as if she were riding him._

_Fuck, _now where did that thought come from? It wasn't from_ her_ mind, and he was reading it fairly carefully, as they glided across the floor (all eyes watching, fascinated with such double beauty appearing in their drab little town). In fact she hadn't sent him obscene images since that first night, and she wasn't sending him one now. Her thoughts were, in this stacking order: the rhythm and proper timing of feet, the crowd's eyes on her, the feel of Edward's shoulder beneath her fingers; and then on a lower level: the greenish spectrum of fluorescent lights, the hops smell of the beer, the detergent Esme used to wash his shirt, and even below that, like a subconscious undercurrent, was the original question _how big was his cock_ and _how soon would she find out._

He pulled her off the floor before the song ended, before he got a fucking hard on in front of all these already-dazzled humans.

"A beer?" he asked and she nodded, giggling at his pretense of human activity. He bought two at the bar, and they clinked their mugs together and pretended to drink. A later regurgitation might be necessary if he couldn't find a plant.

The night went on like this: dancing the two-step, stopping for a bit to avoid an erection (though this became increasingly difficult as the night wore on), pretending to shout in each other's ear like humans do in loud places (though they could hear each other perfectly well), and having one sided conversations, where she made little amusing observations in her head about the nearby humans and he would try to keep from laughing.

He began to wonder what he had seen in Kate, who was sweet but far less subtle and intelligent than the stunning, charming creature in front of him now. He felt almost as if he were drunk (or what he imagined drunkenness to be like). The word_ fuck_ kept appearing involuntarily in his mind, and by midnight, he no longer cared whether he got a hard on or not. She did not deliberately press against him, though; instead she would brush her hip tortuously across it. Her face took on an innocent, shy expression and she looked up at him through her lashes. As a gentleman, he should pretend not to see through such artifice, but frankly he was feeling less and less civilized as the night wore on. He shot her an amused, skeptical look.

"I guess you cannot be fooled," she whispered. "How very irritating."

"I know about you, you know," he said slowly. "Succubus."

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "And how does that sit with you, turn-of-the-century man?"

There was a part of him, the old-fashioned, human part of him, that envisioned a sweet and virginal bride, blushing in his arms on their wedding night while they clumsily discovered one another. That vision died a little with her question. No vampire was a virgin, except the odd newborn. Oh, yeah and_ him_. Edward the Virgin Vampire. "I'm still deciding," he answered honestly. "I don't know."

"You can ask me anything," she answered. "It looks like I will have to give you an honest answer, too – every single time. Damn your mind-reading!" She smiled. She had a dimple on her left cheek.

"Shall we go?" he asked, and immediately the word 'fuck' appeared in his mind again. _Fuck, fuck, fuckitee fuck_, like the rhythm of a slow and steady two –step.

Odd, that this wasn't coming from her – or anyone around them. No, the words were generated in his own brain. Edward had no intention of fucking her this evening ... correction: _making love_ to her this evening. (Why, they'd barely gotten to know each other; why, they'd have to be married to do that anyway; and oh yeah, Kate, Kate, what about Kate?) He couldn't understand where such rogue obscenities were coming from.

The air was damp and promising rain – which would become snow as they returned to higher elevations.

"Are you driving again?" she asked, as he led her across the street and around the side of the car.

"Yes, if you don't mind." Not that her car was a pleasure to drive. 1961 had been a bad year for BMW automotive technology.

"Are you used to driving on ice and snow?" She sat and swung her legs in. This time her knees parted a fraction. His dick twitched for the hundredth time that evening.

"I've been around the block a few times," he quipped. "I'm a good driver_." A fuck-ing good dri-ver,_ he said rhythmically in his head. _Fuckitee fuck..._

_&&&&&&&&&_

Author notes: You may have guessed I skipped over the Kate and Irina parts of the story. The pace was losing momentum, and I know you are all waiting to find out _what the hell happened_ with Tanya. Hopefully I can do some major writing over the holidays, without work obligations breathing down my neck, and can get to Edward's 'lovely mouthful 'sooner rather than later.

I have Kate's and Irina's stories in my head though, and maybe I'll do an outtake.

Happy Holidays all –

-alchemilla


	12. Chapter 12: Do me Screw me

Author's note:

At last – it took nearly six chapters to get to this part of the story. My apologies for dragging it out. The narrative takes on a life of its own, you know, and I have no choice but to helplessly write it down. Yeah, whatever.

I need to include the disclaimer that I know nothing about BMW automotive technology. If I said it was rubbish, I was making it up. I am also adjusting Alaskan geography a bit.

Thanks to Angel and Kristi for beta duties, Littlechoo for the big picture and those lovely gals that mention my story on Twilighted, A Different Forest, The_Gazebo and wherever else people are reccing it. Let me know if you've mentioned it somewhere – I'll suddenly get a rush of hits and I don't know where they came from! And thanks to Blondie for doing beta duty at Twilighted.

**Chapter 12: Do-me Screw-me **

**October 1968 Fairbanks, Alaska**

He was just about to close the car door, when he heard the thoughts coming out the dance hall entrance. A man's thoughts: _Tanya, gorgeous Tanya and her frozen pipes. Why IS she with that kid?_

_Frozen pipes_ -what? And what, _KID? _ Edward bristled. Then he saw the man's mind and almost chortled at his own misunderstanding. The man was a plumber. The Denalis' plumber. What was _not_ funny was that the man dismissed Edward entirely. Sometimes Edward hated that he looked seventeen.

"Hey," the man began, picking his way between parked cars. "Is that Tanya Smirth with you?"

_Smirth. _ Ah, their current alias_._ (They'd dropped 'Smirnov' during the McCarthy era, Kate had told him.)

"Yes," said Edward coldly, shutting Tanya's door and then leaning against it. The man stopped, overcome by a sudden urge to piss in his pants. Edward stood vampire-still, his chin lowered, his eyes steely, one curled fist around the BMW key, the other resting on the roof of the car. The plumber goggled, squeaked high in his throat, then turned and _ran_.

"Oh, Edward," laughed Tanya, as he pulled out of the parking spot. "I heard the vampire timbre in your 'yes'. That was Norman, our plumber. He had a terrible crush on Irina. It took ages to install the shower."

"You should tell Irina that he's married," growled Edward, still irritated. He barrelled through a four-way stop; no one was around. "_Norman_ was already fretting that his wife would catch him coming out of the dance hall to speak to you."

"Really? Married?" she asked with surprise, but Edward could read that she already knew. In fact, she pictured the woman in her head.

_Human marriage, _she thought with disdain, _is of so little consequence._

"What do you mean by that?" asked Edward, a little taken aback.

She let out a little 'tuh' of air. "I forgot for a moment," she muttered. "You can read my every thought."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I cannot prevent it."

She shifted her body sideways in the seat, so that she faced him. Her legs were crossed, calves aligned. She put her hands behind her head, elbows out, breasts-breasts-breasts, _fuck how can one avoid looking at them_? From long neck down to shapely ankle, she was an archetype of appealing feminine proportions. She watched him driving, watched his fingers tapping absently on the gear shift; he could see himself in her mind. "Take a left here," she directed. "We'll go the long way home, maybe stop for a late supper? There are excellent views of Lake Chikuminuk along Route 4."

And she imagined -only for a moment before she tucked it away – the two of them crouched over the still-warm corpse of an elk, their pupils dilated with the rush of the feed, and Edward taking her chin in his fingers and leaning in for a kiss. She expected to be kissed. Of course she did. It was a predictable finish to a modern date. He thought wistfully back to his months-long yearning to share a single kiss with Miss Harrow, to his romantic ideas of courting her, despite his vampirism and their apparent age difference. He glanced over at Tanya and was dismayed to feel something like disappointment. God, he really was a hopeless sap. What did he expect, violins?

Didn't he _want_ to kiss Tanya? Taste that wide mouth, those full lips? Only last week he was contemplating kissing Kate.

But...but..._a good hard naked fuck in the snow, now that's a better finish. _

_Tap, tap, tappity tap_ – he tapped his fingers restlessly against the steering wheel, to the rhythm of the last song played at the dance hall.

"What did you mean earlier," he said quickly, giving his head a shake. "'Human marriage is of so little consequence?'"

"Is that what I said..._thought_?" she laughed lightly. "You make me out to be more articulate than I am."

"I think marriage is an essential institution," he said, a hint of challenge in his voice. "Far more than just a legal or sacramental union."

She blinked and adjusted her thoughts a fraction. "For some. But surely you've been inside their human heads. After a mere twenty years together, they are resentful and oppressed by one another, sniping and picking at every opportunity. I've known some very unhappy men."

"And you...you liberated them from all that marital misery," he suggested coolly.

"A select few." She narrowed her eyes and abandoned her _odalisque_-pose. "Watch it, Edwardian Edward. I hear judgement in your voice."

"No," he disagreed. "I am just interested in your...ideology." He searched for the wiper button; snow was beginning to fall. "You call yourself a humanist. Doesn't that extend to women as well?"

"We don't eat women...nor do we make love to them. Their loss," she giggled. She reached across him and pulled the wiper button. Her breast brushed his arm and he shuddered.

_Oh, let me touch it cup it squeeze it suck it._

"Okay, I'll get right to the point," he said briskly. "I realize there was a time when men of a certain stature were almost expected to have mistresses – and their wives expected to tolerate it. Kate's told me a little about you and your sisters'...um, circumstances in centuries past. But surely, in this enlightened century of women's rights, you wouldn't pursue a married man?"

"_Enlightened_ century, Edward? Why, less than ten years ago black people had to use a different water fountain. A few decades ago an elected government tried to consume Europe and exterminate the Jewish population—"

"Okay, okay," he backpedalled, "I'm not talking about governments. I'm talking about love and modern marriage."

"Ah, well." She twirled a golden curl and gave him a slightly patronizing smile. "Which 'modern' decade are you referring to? The repressed, hypocritical fifties? The buttoned-up teens of your human youth? Or the sexual release of the roaring twenties? I believe 'free love' is the current fashion in California, though it hasn't hit Alaska quite yet. And I'm not even touching on far eastern culture."

"Okay. _Christ_." He rolled his eyes and she chuckled at him. She was enjoying this way too much.

He tried again. "_In general_, twentieth century western women won't tolerate a third party in a marriage," he insisted fiercely, gripping the steering wheel. "You're avoiding my question, Tanya." He turned and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Don't forget, _Edward_, we are vampires. We will outlast conventions, customs, and culture. Manias, movements, modes. You and I cannot be confined by the weak list of an era's fashions! And you're sliding on the ice – slow down."

"Now you are misquoting Shakespeare," he chastised, doing his best to goad her. "It's '_the weak list of a country's_ _fashions_', and I take it that you pursue whomever you want, regardless of marital status...and why don't you have a car with four-wheel drive anyway?" He slid around an icy, shallow curve, only just controlling the skid.

"I am adjusting the quote to suit my argument," she sniffed. "You will find, after another century or so, that the morals and ethics of a particular era are almost meaningless. It is just silly to stay mired in one particular decade. And I prefer the styling of European cars."

"It's just silly to have a rear-wheel drive BMW in Alaska's climate," he retorted brusquely. "And your reasoning is full of holes. You cannot simply choose what you like and decide that 'okay, this must be good and right because I wish it to be so.' You have to find a precedent...some principles compiled by greater minds than your own...the Universal Declaration of Human Rights...the Ten Commandments even. Something or someone you can believe in."

Like Carlisle, he thought.

"Slow down and pull over here." She pointed. "I want to stop and hunt."

"Not yet."_ Stop and fuck, more like._

"PULL OVER. Before the bend."

"Answer my question then," he growled.

"PLUCK IT FROM MY HEAD, why don't you. Now pull over, I WANT to show you the lake," she said. "It's beautiful." She made to put her hand on the wheel.

"OFF, goddamn it. I'm the driver." He caught her wrist and, with his eyes fixed on the road, looked into her head. She wasn't contemplating the ethics of adultery, no - it was that scene again. The kiss by the elk. No, now it changed: the other scene, from the first day of his visit, the one in the snow. He's on top; he's moving, thrusting to the rhythm of the two step _fuck me faster fuckity fuck._

"NOT. YET," he seethed, though he wasn't sure to whom he was responding.

They wrestled for a moment, both snarling in their throats like... like vampires. Tanya tried to free her wrist from his right hand while Edward tried to negotiate the bend with his left.

"Black Ice," was the last thing she said, and "Well, shit," was the last thing he said, before both their heads went straight through the windshield.

Vampires never wear seatbelts.

_**8&8&8&8&8&8&8**_  
It takes a severe injury to send a vampire into unconsciousness, and so Edward didn't know how long he had lain on the frozen lake. The first thing he noticed was the regular and repeated creak of ice, like a squeaky door hinge. The second was the chorus of pain coming from his skull and his left shoulder. Steadily, rapidly, his brain tissue reformed, new neurons were miraculously forged, the stone cartilage of his severed ear generated out of nothing on the side of his head.

Soon he heard Tanya's groan, a string of Russian words that were surely expletives, the shrill wind, and again that creak of the ice.

"I think I've lost some toes," she was complaining. "You've ruined my good nylons."

"Are you all right?" he breathed, feeling his snow-dusted head with one hand. His skull wasn't quite the right shape yet. And his eyebrows had been sheared off.

"God DAMN you, that hurt," she spat. "Don't even speak to me."

He staggered to his feet, both of which were still intact at least, and opened his eyes to a clear, cloudless dawn. The BMW lay on its rounded back, its four tires, blown, up in the air. He could see the line of broken saplings, where the car had left the cliff and tumbled through the snow before landing on the frozen lake.

"It...it must have been the ice," he stammered incredulously, his fingers in his hair. This was his first accident. EVER. "I didn't expect to leave the road."

God, how humiliating. He'd receive no end of ribbing from Emmett and Jasper, and there was no chance of keeping it a secret, not with Alice around. His face would have been beet red if he could blush. His head, however, felt clearer now, with no more intermittent _fucks_ appearing.

Tanya was sitting inelegantly on the ice, examining her foot in the pinkish light. Her hair was wild and full of shards of glass and snow. She sparkled. "If ONLY you had pulled over earlier –"

"Yeah," he remembered their argument suddenly. "So, basically, you don't give a damn about the wives. Or any children, either."

"The wives?" she shrieked. "THE WIVES?" She was instantly in front of him, giving him a shove. He let her, because maybe he deserved it, and he slid on his ass almost twenty feet, the ice shifting fractionally beneath him.

"You've just destroyed our only family car and you're still harping about HUMAN MARRIAGE," she yelled.

"It just needs a new windshield...four tires...a little body work. It's important to me. Your answer, I mean, not the car. The car is...well, the '61 3200 Coupe is CRAP," he said, leaning back on his hands and tilting his head to look at it. One of her boots was caught in the shattered windshield. Probably with some toes inside, he thought. "1961 was a not BMW's best year," he explained.

"_Baw zhe moy!_ I can't afford a spanking new Mercedes, you motor _snob,"_ she stamped her booted foot.

He decided not to tell her about the five other cars in the Cullens' Michigan barn-garage.

_I'll carry it out of here_, he was just about to offer, when an almighty _crack_ sounded beneath her foot. They both gasped, but there was no immediate split. The vibration travelled, as if in slow motion, toward the place where the weight was greatest: the car. Their eyes met, then Edward was on his feet, hurling himself toward the car just as the ice collapsed beneath it. He pitched himself onto his chest and slid like an arctic seal to the edge. He dipped his face in the freezing water and reached for the sinking car, hooking a hand around the bumper.

Success! he thought, hauling the car back toward the surface. "Got it," he called when his head was out of the water. The weight proved too great, however, for the screw attachments, and suddenly he was holding only the bumper in his hand.

"Maybe not," she hissed.

He flung the bumper onto the ice and pulled himself entirely into the water. He dived below, quickly located the front axle, angled the chassis carefully, and then gave the car a violent shove toward the light.

Clambering back out of the hole, he dragged his body out and lay face down on the ice for a moment. His soaked clothing instantly began to freeze. He raised his head; she stood there, somehow still managing to look like the most beautiful woman on earth, albeit a dishevelled one. She was tapping her fingers against folded arms, her eyes murderous.

"Uh, where is it?" he managed to say, though ice was freezing on his lips now.

"You simply threw it from one hole into another," she said, pointing at another gaping expanse of blue water about thirty feet away.

He put his face back down on the ice and burst into laughter.

_THIS is not what I planned_, she thought impatiently. _I'll have to improvise._

_What does _that_ mean?_ he wondered.

_**8&8&8&8&8&8&8**_

"Use this one; it's heated," she said. Tanya nudged him into her bathroom.

He was filthy, green lake-scum frozen in his hair and behind his ears. He examined himself in the wide mirror. His eyebrows were nearly whole again; his skull seemed to have returned to its proper shape. He knocked the icicles out of his hair and they scattered in bits across the countertop. Tanya was slamming a cabinet door, pulling out towels, complaining ruefully about her dress, _my favorite dress_, she thought – a bit loudly it seemed. _One shoe, lost forever _she seemed to be enunciating while other words, Russian words, ran rapidly like ticker tape through her head.

Edward reached for the only soap he could find – some floral-scented concoction in a pump dispenser. It would have to do. He pumped it into his palm and reached for the hot water faucet. "The soap..." he muttered in surprise. The consistency was all wrong.

"That's not soap," she said and he looked up into the mirror just in time to see her pulling her dress over her head.

He spun around. "_Tanya. _ Jesus."

"Yes?" she answered, raising her hands to her hair and pulling out bits of glass.

"You...you seem to have lost your underwear," he stammered.

"Yes," she laughed huskily. "I must have."

Black garter belt. _Fuck fuck fuckitee fuck _sounded in his head.

She leaned over and rolled down a ripped nylon stocking. "Ruined," she tutted.

No panties. _On-your-back, spread-your-knees._

Erect nipples peeking out of black lace_. Pinch-them tweak-them may I please? _

"That's not soap," she repeated. "It's lube."

He stared down at his palm. "Engine lubricant?" he said stupidly. His brain wasn't working at all.

"Not quite, motorhead," she laughed again. She reached behind and unclasped her bra.

He stayed frozen against the counter, flabbergasted. Her breasts wobbled deliciously, her pubic hair glinted gold, she stalked toward him, half lioness half Marilyn Monroe.

Then she was there in front of him and she took his wrist. She ran her palm flat along his slick one. "I'll show you what to do with this."

His response sat heavily on his tongue, ready to come out: _show-me coat-me fuck-me blow-me._

"I won't say it," he blurted desperately. "Out loud."

"Won't say what?" She unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers.

"I won't say those words," he cried, watching her struggle with his ice-stiffened trousers. A traitorous bulge strained against the fabric. He had both hands back on the counter now, slippery against the surface. If he didn't move, if he didn't participate, he wouldn't be doing anything wrong, anything against his courtship protocol _what happened to the protocol fuck-me do-me suck-me screw-me?_

"What words?" she purred, shoving his underwear down over his hips. His erection sprang free. She was pleased with his size; he could read that immediately in her head.

_Oh, stroke-it palm-it touch-it fuck-it._

"Those...those words you've put in my head! Oh, oh _God_."

What her fingers and hands could do! Her palm, arched backward, slick with lube along the underside of his erection, fingertips brushing against his balls just before the upstroke.

"Yes," she whispered, licking her lips.

The opposable thumb! What a miracle of evolution that was, squeezing round his girth, brushing the head at the last moment before the start of the downstoke. The soft padding at the base of each finger, the dexterity of every joint – _good God_ what talent she possessed. He trembled, he shuddered, he was practically hyperventilating. He vaguely acknowledged the sound of the pump dispenser, as she reached behind him. There was a second slickened hand now, her fingernails raking softly across his balls. He threw his head back and moaned.

No thought polluted his mind for the moment; primal sensation ruled, in both their minds. His eyes were squeezed shut but he could see her view, from inside her head. Her white hand moving slowly, _fuck_, so slowly, up, down, up, down; the pre-come venom weeping at his tip. The other hand, working his balls. She lowered her head, moving in for fellatio.

_Suck-it tongue-it lick-it fuck-it._

"NO," he gasped. He would not say such words.

Her thoughts rang straight into his empty head. _I'll give him the fuck of his life. Then he's sure to fall in love with me. _And she swiped the pre-come off with her tongue.

"NO," he cried again. "Out of order." He grabbed the curly hair on the crown of her head and lifted, just before she could take him in her mouth. "Out of order," he gasped again.

She stilled her hand and looked up at him. She was doubly-pleased for an instant. _Yes, _she thought,_ the woman's orgasm comes first. Good call._

He removed her hand from his dick. "Love comes first," he said roughly.

"Pardon?" she said quizzically. She didn't quite comprehend.

"Love first. Marriage. Sex," he breathed out the syllables like a caveman, since he wasn't particularly articulate at the moment. He removed her other hand as well.

She straightened and put the back of her hand (the unlubricated side) against his cheek. "Only in human fairytales, Edward," she whispered, with a touch of sadness to her voice. "We are too passionate, too primal for such conventions." Her black eyes bore into his. "I have nothing but _you_ in my head – no bloodlust. No human fear. Don't fight it."

Her full, gorgeous, Consuela-sized breasts lay an inch from his chest. Her pussy was wet and waiting (he could smell it). It would be so easy... so good... _FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCKITY FUCK ME._

She was playing him. Still!

"Is _this_ what you do to your married men?" he choked out. He pushed her hand firmly away, separating their bodies. "Seduction first, love later? They don't stand a chance, do they?"

"_Edward_." Anger and frustration flashed across her thoughts. "Love follows," she defended herself, her voice hardening. "Always. I do not wantonly pursue a man, married or not!" She raised her chin. "And when the moment of decision comes, he asks for it. If his marriage were stronger, he wouldn't be the initiator. I don't have to seduce him, he WANTS it."

"That's because you put the words in his head!" Edward snorted. It was suddenly _all very clear_. He looked down, mortified to see his boxers around his knees and his well-oiled, disobedient dick still standing at half-mast.

"_Hooy na ny_," she swore in Russian, "what the hell do you mean?" She put her hands on her hips.

"You...you kept up a rhythm... a litany of obscenities that you deposited in my brain," he accused, practically ripping his pants in his haste to get them on again.

"Whattt?"

"All evening long, in fact! Since we left the house! But it didn't seem to come from your head at all – how do you DO that?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

He slapped himself on the forehead. "Why didn't I see it before? You are..." He pointed at her. "You're _cheating_."

"I _beg your pardon._ You're the one with the mind gifts, not me! I am not capable of such a thing!" she protested vehemently.

"You think it absolves you of all responsibility," he continued. "If they ask for it, then you are not the home-wrecker, is that it?"

"HOW dare you," she raised her palm and this time he was too slow to stop her. She hit him hard across the face. "You know nothing about it!" she snarled, furious and Slavic expletives in her head. "Have you ever fallen for a human, had your heart broken into a thousand pieces?"

"Nnno," he slurred, grasping his jaw.

She stared at him a moment, her composure falling back into place. _I suspect you've never been in love at all. _

Edward decided this was not the moment to reveal that he was a virgin.

"Don't judge me, Edward Cullen," she said carefully, "until you've lived another century or two."

"Thiss is bullsssit," he muttered, popping his jawbone back into place. "Bullshit." He grabbed a towel from the rack and thrust it at her. "Cover yourself, for God's sake."

And he walked out the door.

_**8&8&8&8&8&8&8**_

REVIEWS keep a fanfic writer writing. Otherwise we'd be attempting that unrewarding original stuff. Doesn't even have to be a super-duper articulate review. Go on, I need it.

You romantic types – are you devastated that he let Tanya touch him? _The magic is gone_, you may bemoan. I struggled with deciding how far I should let her go. Your opinion interests me. Leave it on Twilighted forum if you like. Link on my profile.


	13. Chapter 13: One Room, Two Rooms

HELLO new readers and patient, long-time ones. Perv Pack and The Little Know Ficster both did long and lovely reviews, which brought huge new numbers to my little fic. I am pleased as punch – thank you to all you reviewers and alert-fans and favourite-ing readers. Makes it all worthwhile. I hear of others are plugging away with recs on blogs and sites – I am humbled. **I am feeling a little nervous, as the last chapters have elicited some strong (and varied) responses in you guys. **

Thanks to Littlechoo (Sense of Self), who has been patient with my erratic communication, as well as betas Kristi and Angel.

I heard someone complain yesterday that sometimes fanfic Edward (not mine necessarily) had a 'mangina'. Ouch. My Edward gets a little emo, but hopefully is mangina-free.

**Don't forget, the flashbacks are written as detailed memories. Edward didn't describe to Bella exactly how Tanya's boobs bounced or repeat all the f-words that appeared in his head, but gave her an accurate description of the events – the way any of us would relay a story.**

**Chapter 13: One Room, Two Rooms**

"One room, one night," Edward said brusquely to the desk clerk of _The Wagon Wheel Inn_, holding out his Visa card.

"We have king-sized or doub—" the man began.

"TWO rooms, one night," Bella interrupted, fishing around in the bottom of her purse.

"Bella." Edward's voice was a soft, desperate wail. "One room." He could make it all right again, if only she'd let him hold her in his arms, like they did nearly every night in her little bed in Forks.

She shook her head. "Two," she whispered, not looking at him, and his heart clenched.

The clerk, though expressionless, was already pegging Edward as a lecherous, controlling teenage boyfriend. Bella opened her wallet and peered at the money her father had given her.

"Adjoining," Edward demanded, thrusting the Visa again at the clerk. The man glanced at Bella over his glasses, thinking _poor little thing _and _don't do it, he'll come in_ _anyway_. Edward wanted to leap over the counter and shove the man's wheel-shaped nametag down his throat.

"Adjoining," Bella agreed. "I can pay for my own." Then to Edward's dismay, she drew out the Manhunt winnings and proceeded to divide the bills into two piles.

It was like a divorce, he thought wildly.

***

Edward sat on the edge of the motel bed with his forehead buried in his palm, his elbow on his knee. He regarded his open suitcase at his feet, which contained various hopeful purchases. A pair of cold-weather gloves filled with a pressure activated gel, instantly warming the hands. A super-thin high tech heating pad that he could have put between their bare (or nearly bare) bodies so she could stand it a little longer.

Restless and miserable, he picked up one glove and turned it over and over. _She'll leave you, sooner or later, _Tanya had told him more than once while Bella was in Florida_. They always do._ "They" meaning humans. _ Yes_, he thought, _with the help of your cruel little nudge, Tanya_. He put the glove on his hand; his long fingers stretched the material.

The _gift_. Damn it. In his distracted state of mind, he had left it on the dashboard in the parking lot. It looked like a little ring box; Edward decided he'd better retrieve it before it aroused the curiosity of a small town thief. The Vanquish was mostly impenetrable, but even so....

He stood abruptly and listened to Bella's activities next door. The motel air conditioner was on full blast, but he could still hear the faucet running in her bathroom, the unzipping of her toiletries bag. Her heartbeat was steady and normal. Had she already made some awful, fateful decision? He opened one of the double-layered doors that stood between the adjoining rooms and put his palms against the door, willing her to come open hers. "BellabellabellaBella," he said at vampire speed, despairingly. "It was before I met you, before I loved you. Forgive me. _Please."_

She couldn't hear him of course. He gently put pressure on the door; it was locked. He _could_ snap the deadbolt with a push of his forefinger. _Respect her_, Charlie had said, punctuating the words with his new fish knife, _and that means letting her make decisions, Edward._

_Yes, sir,_ Edward had earnestly replied, while lowering a worm to its watery fate on a curled hook. That fishing trip now seemed a century ago.

Edward turned from her door and grabbed the keys of the Vanquish. He pulled open the sliding glass door which lead onto a small balcony. Shoving aside two plastic chairs, he leapt up onto the railing and balanced on his toes a moment, sifting through the minds and vision of any nearby hotel guests (Bella excepted). There was no one in the room below. Assured he was unobserved, he dropped to the ground and headed around the building.

The night was hot and humid, the tarmac of the parking lot giving off a sharp chemical smell. He grabbed the purple box from the dashboard and was a little shocked to realize he had also left his phone behind. It sat on the console, flashing a tiny blue light.

There were five missed texts. Three from Alice. Two from Tanya. He snarled involuntarily. The texts had been sent when there was no signal in the mountains, and received when he was too upset to care, when he was reeling from the_ absolute silence _that followed his final confession to Bella. Well, not absolute. First she said, in a watery, choking voice, "You should have told me before." And that was it. Not another word for 250 miles.

Cursing furiously under his breath, he picked up his phone and scrolled through the texts.

_Look out behind you! _said the first.

What? Ah, the tailgater on the mountain road. "Too fucking late, Alice," he muttered.

The second: _Ignore 1__st__ mssge, u wn't get it in time._

No kidding.

_Proceed wth caution_, said Alice's third text.

"Wholly unhelpful," Edward fumed quietly against his sister. _Proceed with caution?_ In regards to what? Driving? Rejecting Bella's advances? The story of Tanya and the blow job that never happened? He could murder Alice right now, tear her elfin head from her shoulders. In fact, WHY hadn't Alice warned him in the first place?? The night of Manhunt? He nearly dropped the phone. He felt betrayed by his own sister. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he scrolled further down.

From Tanya: _Srry bout what I said. Its not easy 4 me, u know._

"Not easy for YOU?" he repeated in an incredulous rasp.

Tanya's second text: _& I am rly disappointd in u._

"WHAT the FUCK," he hissed. _She _was disappointed in _him_. Whatever for? Anger roared in his ears. He locked the Vanquish and stormed back around the building, dialling her number. Her breathy, Marilyn Monroe voice sounded through the receiver. She might as well be singing 'Happy Birthday Mr. President'.

_Hello, you have reached Tanya. I am indisposed at the moment, so leave your mark and I will come back to you as soon as I am able. Bye._

Beep.

%%%%%%%

Bella pulled on a comfy t-shirt, ignoring the feminine, delicate nightgown she had purchased (at Target, without Alice's help) for the road trip, and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She felt thin and unattractive. She had just washed her face but already her nose was looking shiny with perspiration. She was drained, bereft. And hungry. He had forgotten about dinner and she hadn't spoken to remind him.

She knew everything now. His story had become clipped and disjointed when the worst part came and she found she was grateful not to learn every detail after all. Bella didn't know what was more painful, the facts (_Tanya stroked me...she...she licked me – once)_, or the way he curled up with humiliation when he said: _And I let her. _He had finished the story with his head in his hands. Bella found it strange that he was so focused on his surrender and not his defiance – overdue though it was.

Edward was a proud young man, she decided. Old man. _Old vampire_. A young vampire, actually. _Whatever_. In any case, he was moored to his principles and would not be cast off by a greedy succubus.

_He had rejected Tanya._ That was good, of course it was.

What if he had gone through with it? And oral sex had lead to everything else – what if he had actually lost his virginity to Tanya? Would Bella feel any differently about him?

No, she realized. No.

_Take that, Tanya, _she said in her head, straightening her small shoulders in the mirror. _I would love him anyway. Your ploy came to nothing. _Still, Bella's emotions teetered between relief and jealousy, disgust and fury. And something else she couldn't quite articulate.

So she smiled at the mirror, willing herself to be pleased. It came out like a desperate grimace. What expression had she worn in the Vanquish when she had declared she was going to "take out his cock"? Had she really said that?Oh my God. She buried her face in her hands with belated embarrassment.

_Useless air conditioner_, she thought savagely, going back into the room and glaring at the ancient metal casing under the window with its single knob. She turned off the pulsing, noisy thing, and immediately heard a noise outside --like the sound of chairs scraping on a floor.

She opened the sliding glass door and stepped onto the balcony, into the warm and sticky night. She peeked over at Edward's balcony; his sliding glass door was open, the balcony's plastic chairs pushed to one side.

Bella backed quickly out of sight, against the wall. She wasn't ready to be with him just yet, to be persuaded and adored and dazzled back into his arms. She needed a night alone to figure everything out.

Bella needed to mourn the death of a romantic ideal – that Edward was a miraculous, pristine gift, to be unwrapped and discovered by her alone. Someone had already fiddled with the package. Consuela benignly and Tanya wantonly.

She needed to forgive him for not telling her. That, after all, was the crux of her complaint -- and the particular reason she could justify her own behaviour the last twenty four hours.

But above all this, Bella came to the monumental realization that she had to rally herself to the task of keeping him. Tanya had not surrendered, Bella felt sure, but had only retreated, in order to regroup and attack another day. It would not be a vampiric wrestle-dismember-burn to the death sort of thing; it would be subtle and surprising. Bella must prepare herself and not let Edward lull her into a false sense of security.

She sank onto the concrete floor and sat cross-legged, leaning against the brick wall of the motel building. Both surfaces were pleasantly cool against her skin. They were not as nice as Edward's body, which was infinitely smoother, but also colder. Bella decided she preferred cold over hot. Definitely. She smiled, for real this time.

She suddenly heard his voice, hissing and humming like a vampire, and realized he was just below. He was livid, enunciating every word enough that she could just make it out. He was...quoting Shakespeare? To himself?

"_Thou hast betrayed my credulous innocence with vizor'd falsehood and base forgery," _he spat.

Bella breathed shallowly through her mouth, not wanting to give away her presence. He was on the phone, it dawned on her.

"How dare you," he spluttered, "how DARE you? I would have thought you above such word games. For thirty- nine years – THIRTY-NINE YEARS – you say nothing, not even to your sisters, and then you decide to reveal the incident to my first and only mate! During a five minute conversation, I might add, and in the most incriminating and misleading manner possible. How in the world did you even introduce the topic? She is eighteen, let me remind you. Your indelicacy astounds me."

He was speaking to Tanya. Bella's fists tightened into balls at the word _eighteen._ His voice rose, in height, and Bella figured he must have leapt back up to his balcony, without even an inflection change in his voice.

"You somehow failed to mention that I had put a stop to it. Jesus, Tanya. It was a secret—embarrassing for both of us – that never should have seen the light of day zzzhehyzzzzz---

He must have lowered his voice, or turned his head away or calmed down, because he was speaking too fast for Bella to understand now. It was like Spanish, she thought. After three years of high school Spanish, Bella had realized that when you relax your mind, and stop trying to translate every word, then you start to understand it.

He paused, and Bella imagined he was pinching the bridge of his nose. He took a breath.

"Though we had a rocky start, you and I have been friends at times. Good friends even. I thought...I thought you actually cared about me. How easily you killed our friendship, with three malicious little words. It pains me – though I assure you I will quickly recover – to declare the end of our attachment." He paused again, and spoke carefully. "I will not interfere in your relationship with my family," he said, and then his voice took on a resonance that made Bella's neck prickle, "but I insist that you stay _the fuck_ away from my Bella."

One more big breath. "There, Tanya. _That is the true beginning of our end_."

Bella heard the flip of his phone close.

Feeling a mix of elation, irritation, curiosity at his choice of words and an odd touch of guilt, Bella clutched her hand to her chest. She was about to get up, and maybe even call out to him, when she heard him punching in a second number.

"A GODDAMN HEADS UP would have been nice. What the hell, Alice? WHAT. THE. HELL."

He paused; Alice was responding.

"Do you know Bella cried halfway to Seattle? She _sobbed_ like...like her heart was broken in two. I broke it. And now..." his voice cracked. "Now she won't even share a hotel room with me." He sounded broken himself, all the fire from Tanya's call gone.

...

"You knew Tanya was going to drop this bombshell and YOU DIDN'T TELL ME. I could have prevented all of this by simply keeping Bella out of the house -"

...

"No, YOU have forced my hand, sister, to a full disclosure of shit that is not only damaging but IRRELEVANT. You're right, I wouldn't have told Bella, not until she was older. And now, _you_ know the whole story too, after nearly forty years of keeping it from you. Oh. Joy."

Bella had forgotten that. His confession would have been heard by Alice , too. How embarrassing. ...

"You thought it would be _good _for us?" he cried angrily. "We don't need your patronizing relationship crap."

...

"No, being a man didn't buy me ANY forgiveness points. Bella is too young to understand the male libido."

Bella bristled_. I am NOT too young_, she thought. And what does _libido_ mean?

...

Don't you realize, Alice? People don't _want _to know the intimate details of a partner's past sex life. The think they do, but afterwards, they are always sorry they insisted upon knowing. I've seen it again and again. I can read minds, remember?"

....

"Oh really. So, do you want to know about Jasper and Maria behind the horseshed in El Paso. No, _against_ the horseshed?"

_Ouch_, thought Bella, in more ways than one.

...

"Ah, something he hasn't told you? Well, what about on the beach at midnight in Corpus Christi?"

...

"Yeah, thought not," said Edward coldly. "Because Jasper is a gentleman. It's not only poor taste, it's cruel. It was cruel to give Bella the whole story. She said nothing afterwards. There were no tears, no admonishments, other than 'you should have told me'. _Nothing. _Nothing!"

....

Bella shook her head; didn't he understand? It was his omission that had hurt her, not the act itself. In fact, he had _stopped_ Tanya. If anything, her trust had been restored now, along with newfound courage against the would-be Tanyas of this world. She must make him understand this.

...

"What do you mean, you don't know? Then what WAS she crying about? Is it the dog Jacob Black? She won't even speak to me now. Is she...oh shit, oh God, Alice, is Bella leaving me?"

Bella started. _Leaving him? _ She almost felt insulted. After all they had been through? Their separation, the Volturi? What was he thinking?

She heard the chairs being pushed aside again. He made a ragged, stifled cry. "I cannot bear this. Look forward, Alice and tell me. Tell me the future; I have to know—"

Then his voice faded to nothing in an instant.

Bella awkwardly scrambled to her feet and ran into her room. He was coming in, surely. He would need her arms, her comfort, her reassurance that she would never leave him. She wouldn't. Ever. She waited in front of the adjoining door.

"Edward," she cried, ready now for a reunion. She could concoct her defensive strategies against Tanya later. "Come in."

She unlocked the bolt. "Come in!" she repeated.

No response. She pulled opened her door. On his door, was a note, written on _The Wagon Wheel Inn _stationery.

_Gone for a run. Back by dawn, _followed by one word, in capital letters, his elegant handwriting abandoned for a scrawl. _PLEASE._

%%%%%%%

Edward had covered two hundred miles by the time he returned, in his attempt to quell his raging anger and anxiety. His sneakers were shredded along the edges, the soles a few millimetres thinner, but he was no calmer than when he had left. He stood below Bella's room, his palms open in anticipated supplication, trying to make out her heartbeat. The sliding glass door was open.

He leapt onto her balcony. The bed was empty. She was not in her room.

_Bella, _his soul cried out –and leapt at the same time when he smelled and heard and sensed her in his own room. Rushing through the adjoining door, he stopped and fell to his knees. She was asleep, curled up on his bed, her arms hugging his flannel shirt, the one she had borrowed the night of Manhunt. He interpreted this small scene (his shirt, his bed) as a hopeful sign of forgiveness. At least, toward forgiveness. Perhaps Alice had told him the truth; Bella would still be with him tomorrow. Relief flooded his mind; he felt like he could weep. Feeling slightly foolish, he thanked God for once again granting a reprieve to an undeserving vampire.

He pulled the covers from the other room and laid them gently over her. He hesitated a moment, then stripped down to his boxers and crawled in carefully and silently beside her. Her scent was sweet and damp and heady; his throat burned.

She stirred, smiled and snuggled to him, snaking her arm around his waist and pressing her nose against his hard chest.

"I can feel your skin," she murmured.

"I wanted to be close to you. Am I too cold?" he whispered hoarsely, trying to disguise the emotion in his voice.

"I like you cold," she said. "What else would you be?"

%%%%

"Bella, you need to wake up."

"Hm?" She rolled over.

"Bella, the sun will soon clear the height of the motel, and I will be stuck here all day."

"Oh." She opened her eyes and sat up abruptly. Edward sat on the end of the bed, freshly showered and fully dressed.

"I...I fell asleep in your room," she said.

"I noticed." He smiled, jerkily, still slightly unsure of her continued affection. Unsure whether to even broach the subject, or keep his mouth shut and hope to God that last night was reconciliation of sorts.

They stared at one another.

"I'm not leaving you," she blurted.

"Good," he answered, startled. He realized suddenly that she must have overhead his desperate conversation with Alice. Bella's scent had been present when he stood on the balcony, but he had ignored it at the time, thinking it was his imagination, his heightened state of distress. He also wanted to ask what she had _really_ been crying about on the way to Seattle, if it wasn't about the 'lovely mouthful' and it wasn't about Jacob Black. But he said nothing.

Bella wanted to ask when he and Tanya had been 'good friends' and if he regularly quoted Shakespeare to Tanya, but Bella did not want to be petty. Most of all, she wanted to make up. So she said nothing.

Bella looked at the sunshine, coming in through the sliding glass door and warming the spectacularly ugly brown-and-gold-patterned carpet. It had a wagon wheel motif. "Is that why you picked this old motel? Because..." she thought for a moment. "Because the parking lot was on the west side of the building?"

"Yes, smarty-girl; you're very observant."

She beamed toothily back at him. Things seemed almost normal again. "Hey. Did you take off your clothes last night?" she asked suddenly, narrowing her eyes. "And get into bed with me?"

"Maybe," he said sheepishly. "Some of them. I'll take them off again tonight if you'll get moving. You still need breakfast."

"It's a deal," she squealed. "And I'm starving!" She leapt out of bed and made a dash for the bathroom, her white cotton panties flashing him like a doe's tail.

Edward sighed and grinned, fingering the little purple-wrapped box in his pocket.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

So this chapter totalled 7K words when I'd finally finished with it. So I've broken it into two chapters. First post today, the other tomorrow. No month long wait this time.


	14. Chapter 14: The Gift of a Kiss

Hello lovely readers. Hearing reviews from some new faces and it's wonderful.

I hope there aren't many errors. Kristi and Angel, Project Team Betas grammarians and punctuationistas, looked at the original version, but I couldn't stop fiddling with it, so any typos are mine. Littlechoo came home from a challenging week of children's hospital work and almost immediately beta'd my fic. She is WIN.

**Chapter 14: The Gift of a Kiss**

There was no talk of Tanya or vampires or blow jobs or even Forks. It was all cheerful avoidance: Dartmouth and college life and a debate about what exactly construed a 'classic' rock and roll song. He drove like a bat out of hell and the ever-changing scenery of the northern USA rolled by them at one hundred and fifty miles per hour. Bella put on Edward's Ray Bans, propped one foot on the open window, fiddled with his iPod and alternated his-and-her choice of tunes. Her skirt was long, but flapped in the rushing air, giving him a strobe-like view of her pale thigh.

They stopped at noon, and Bella ate a huge plate of barbeque; she cat-napped in the afternoon, with the perfectly designed bucket seat laying flat. He soaked up her every word and move, the fear of loss heightening his awareness of her even more than usual. Bella tried to act like a lady, to compensate for her graceless attempt at road-head , though she kept forgetting and was more likely just to be her modern, teenage self. She smiled at him often; he was still not quite himself.

There were still issues to discuss and feelings to assuage on both sides, but the need to reconcile outweighed their former crimes today. They postponed, rather than buried, their complaints.

The day stretched out, and the sun came in low angles through the window, showering the interior of the car with Edward's sparkles.

"There's a lookout down this road," he said suddenly, turning off the main road. "And the timing is perfect."

He pulled down an even smaller road a few miles later, until they came to a stop overlooking a soon-to-set sun.

"Wow," she said, leaping out of the car. Edward joined her, leaning against the hot hood and watching the breeze toss her hair around, as she stood shading her eyes to look across the canyon. A profound yearning overtook him suddenly and he reached out, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him, half-standing, half-leaning against his lap. She squealed and pretended to struggle for a moment, then lay back against him. They watched a lone hawk, circling and hovering on the upcurrents.

"Edward," she said softly.

"Yes?" he said, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"I want you to promise to be honest with me, from now on. It doesn't matter how young you think I am. You can't protect me from disappointment. Or your past, whatever it is."

He breathed out through his nose. "I will try, Bella. My past is so long – there are entire decades of travel, encounters with people and vampires, experiences I've never even mentioned to you. It is hard for me to guess what you would consider an omission."

"Yeah, but the thing with...." Bella didn't want to even say Tanya's name. "The thing with Tanya was a gross omission. She saw instantly that I knew nothing about it and she revelled in that. You humiliated me, by not telling me beforehand. It really hurts that you didn't trust me with the whole story." It was easier to say all this when she wasn't looking at him directly.

"Yes, I realize that now. I'm so sorry. I don't want you to feel humiliated, ever. " He put his face into her hair. "But you hurt me too. You hurt me by believing Tanya's comment was true and assuming the worst about me – that I was a ready and willing partner to her seduction."

"But all it would have taken was some warning! Even a really abridged version would have helped. It was the lack of any information that condemned you. Why hadn't you told me anything at all?"

He had to think about it a moment. "It had become an unspoken pact between Tanya and me, because we both found the whole incident humiliating. Me, because ... because I let her get as far as she did, and Tanya, because no man had ever rejected her before. It was a point of pride. And we both wanted to bury it absolutely. To tell you would have been a breach of confidence, a betrayal of my friendship with Tanya. As it was, she broke it first. Can you understand that?"

"Yes, I suppose," Bella frowned. "Convenient excuse," she said wryly. She rested her head back against his hard chest.

"Convenient...no... I didn't love Tanya. And so I considered it irrelevant to you and me. And yeah, okay, I had no desire to shoot myself in the foot, either. You've always thought so highly of me."

"Hmph. Well, _that's _no longer the case," she said grumpily, half-teasing him, turning around and crossing her arms to rest them against his chest. She set her chin on top her folded hands.

The sunset had deepened, and Edward's million million reflections were a spectacular orangey peach. Bella marvelled at this phenomenon, and reached up to touch his face, to hold up her arm and palm to look at this reflected light on her skin. She pulled off the Ray Bans so she could witness the true colours. He was smiling faintly down at her.

"Bella," he said, pulling her hands away from his face. "Okay. I promise to give you an honest account of my life, if you will let me judge when it should be abridged and when unabridged. Some details are better left unsaid. "

She digested this, thinking of Alice and Jasper and Maria, then suddenly thinking of moments in Jake's shed, innocent though they were, that would hurt Edward's feelings if he knew. Or certainly would piss him off. _Wow._ Her own hypocrisy hit her with a painful, startling clarity. She nodded. "Okay, as long as you don't choose your edits based on my age."

"Well," he shifted on his feet. It was hard to say yes to that one. "Okay."

"Have we forgiven each other, do you think?" she asked, looking up into his eyes.

"You tell me," he said gingerly.

"I think we're nearly there."

"Yes. We are."

She snuggled into his chest and they stood for a while in silence. She felt his body begin to relax against hers, and only then did she realize just how tense he had been.

"How did you know there was a lookout down here?" she asked, taking hold of his wrists and wrapping them around her back.

"It's Big Horn Canyon, there are lookouts all around the rim. I've sought out good views here before, while hunting. "

"When?" she asked, suddenly determined to learn every moment of his life.

"Um, May 1952," he said, chuckling. "With Rose and Em." He pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "You know, I've never witnessed such a beautiful sunset with such a beautiful woman," he murmured.

She smiled. She liked being called a 'woman'.

"And have you ever kissed such a beautiful woman before, in front of such a beautiful sunset?" she teased, putting her arms around his neck.

"Ah, Bella, you've just reminded me..." he smiled. "A perfect segue." He put his hands on her hips and shifted her slightly to the side. "Indeed," he said, reaching into his pocket, "I've never kissed a woman properly before at all."

"Really." Bella drew back. "I beg your pardon. What have we been doing in my bed and on the sofa and behind the science wing for the last year or so?"

"Yes, but those kisses were...limited," he said.

"Were they?" she frowned. She thought kissing Edward was heaven, even if she couldn't go near his teeth.

"There was always restraint," he said soberly. "Always. Come back," he whispered, pulling her hips close again, so that they fit together nicely. Oh so nicely! "And open this." He uncurled his palm in front of her.

"The purple package. I've wanted to ask, when you picked it up in Seattle...but I was too upset. Or too... I don't know. Too proud." Maybe pride was not only his problem. It was hers too.

"It's okay," he said in his velvet voice, offering it to her. "I want to give it to you now."

She took it in her fingers and met his eyes. "What is it?" Bella was a little apprehensive. Surely he had picked up on her cynical views toward marriage by now. He wouldn't dare...you know...consider it even. She wasn't even nineteen.

"It is for us," he said, watching her with a lopsided smile. "I hope it works."

Burning now with curiosity, she pulled open the gauzy ribbon, which he put in his pocket, and opened the box. They both stared into it.

"Um. Thank you?" She picked up a limp piece of...blue rubber? There were two pieces. Two curling pieces of limp, blue rubber. Like a shed snakeskin. Sort of.

"Huh. Blue," he said in surprise.

"_Baby_ blue even. You mean you haven't seen this?" she asked.

"No," he said. "Not the finished product. I had them wrap it."

"Okay," she said and looked up at him. He was smiling at her like an idiot. How nice to see that smile again!

"What is it?" she asked at last.

"Well, I got the idea from your dad--"

"Uh, you're taking gift suggestions from Charlie?" She wrinkled her nose at the blue things. "No wonder."

"He has this massive new fish knife. Razor –sharp."

"Uh-huh," she said dubiously. "He showed it to me. You'd think it was a gun, he was so excited."

"So, then you must have also seen the cover in which it came. The sheath. Very thin, very strong?"

Bella's mouth twitched. The word_ sheath_ made her think of condoms. Those little blue things weren't condoms. Unless they expanded exponentially to fit a vampire penis. She imagined a big, blue vampire penis and suppressed a giggle.

"Here," he said, feigning exasperation, and fished one out. He opened his mouth and proceeded to fit it over his top teeth. He took the other piece out and put it on the bottom. Using his fingers, he pressed along his molars, ensuring it was a snug fit. "It'sth like rubberizthed Kevlarrr," he said, with difficulty. "Carlisle helpedth me make a mollld. A _mold_." He tested them, trying to dislodge the teeth guards with his tongue, but they were securely in place. "Then we found a plaissse in Zeeattle to fasshun them."

She stood there, with her mouth agape. His teeth were baby blue.

"Anddd now, my darling, kissth me," he said. Before she could shut her mouth, he pulled her close and brushed his lips over hers. Startled, she kissed him back clumsily.

"Again," he urged, and this time he took her lower lip between his and sucked on it softly. She gasped. This was completely prohibited before. He would have risked slicing her lip off.

"Your teeth—" she cried.

"-are covvvered," he lisped.

"I can put my tongue...?"

"Wherever you wanth," he finished.

"_Oh_. OH!"

Slowly, they brought their faces closer together and touched tongues, open mouthed. They had done this before, but only with their tongues ridiculously extended and his sticking out of a mostly closed mouth. She'd always thought she must have looked a bit like a frog, grabbing an insect in a slow-motion Discovery Channel shot.

Drawing back, he laughed giddily and she blushed, feeling foolish and frog-like again. It was like she was at a junior high party and had been dared to French kiss the boy next to her.

"Bella. My sexy, blusthing Bella. You are the delight of my liffffe. My existence anyway." He put his arm around her waist and drew her close along the length of his body, but with the other hand he ran his palm slowly over her shoulder, grazing her bare arm with his long fingers, then finally picking up her hand. He was already getting an erection, but he hoped she wouldn't notice. Nothing must distract them from the _act of kissing_. The art of kissing! He would make it art, though he was as green as she.

He brought her hand to his mouth, first bending his head to kiss her knuckles like a proper gentleman, then moving to kiss the tips of each finger.

He took a deep breath, a little nervous, as this next action would go against all his self-discipline, all his restraint, all his instinct to NOT HURT HER. He thought about the moment he had taken her nipple into his mouth in the meadow – how risky that had been! How lust had dangerously (and yes, deliciously) consumed his mind. He smirked, met her sunset-flecked brown eyes with his own, and slipped her forefinger into his mouth. He ran his tongue over it; he applied a little suction. His teeth scraped harmlessly against her skin.

"_Oh my_," she breathed, feeling a little weak in the knees. She sagged against him and felt his hard on against her abdomen. With a little whimper, she raised her chin, her lips, ready to try again. This time he did not hesitate but lowered his mouth to hers and pushed in his tongue; after a moment, she reciprocated. They tasted one another slowly and languorously, hot and cold tongues unfamiliar and exhilarating. "Ohgodohgod," gasped Bella, when Edward moved to her jawline then her earlobe. "Edward, oh my God."

"I know!" he exclaimed, pulling back to look at her. "Oh my Godth." They leapt in again, more forcefully this time, kissing and tonguing deep into one another's mouths, hands on each other's faces, swaying and swooning on the hood of the car, making out like it was the first time. It _was_ the first time, he thought. "Ohmygodth," he groaned, as she ran her tongue over his lips, flicked it over over his blue teeth. "Ohmygod."

"Edward, we sound like Jessica Stanley," she laughed breathlessly. Jessica said _ohmigod _at least twenty times a class period. "But with a speech impediment. "

"Who cares? Thiss is like...a _miracle_!" he cried, his eyes bright and wide with wonder. "I had no idea how much tonnguess would amplify kisssing. No idea at all. Your mouth is the most erotic thing on the planet!"

"Really?" Bella squeaked. He looked at her with awe, like he was going to spout Walt Whitman again. "You are SO a virgin, Edward. A kissing virgin." It didn't matter what Tanya had forced upon him, this was a whole new experience. His and Bella's alone.

"I am," he agreed. "Or was, until this moment. You know, Bella," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist again and rocking her a little,"I think it's time we began our own sexual history. Bella Sthwan and Edward Cullen, Summer 2007."

"We _have _ begun it. We started it in the meadow. You touched me, kissed my body...and I... I _exploded_."

"And I haven't been the ssame since," he admitted, smiling. "You've thrown over all my old prejudissses."

"Good," she said forcefully. She laid her cheek against his chest, thinking. "You know what, I've decided the definition of virginity is irrelevant. The boundaries are too blurry. There are too many fingers and long things and too many... _orifices_."

Edward laughed. He disagreed, though. To him, only one unique combination, coital, biblical, iconic, procreative (though not for them), legal even, would divest them of their virginity.

"It doesn't matter to me," she continued, "what you've done, or not done. Or with whom," she decided. "And...and _I appreciate you telling me_. Your history, unabridged. Miss Harrow, Consuela, Tanya. It was not easy for you, I understand that now. I am sorry I forced you into it."

"Thank you, Bella," he whispered, suddenly awash with gratitude, forgiveness...love.

She moved on quickly. "Anyway, you ruined me for any others the first day you kissed me, in the meadow our junior year."

"Ruined?" he said, a little hurt. He stroked her hair. "Can you choose another word?"

"Oh it was the most glorious, most devastating destruction ever," she laughed and that pleased him. "The best kind of ruin. Captivated, captured...enraptured. Do you think--" her breath hitched and she bit her lip, "—we could make love?" She looked up into his amber eyes.

"Right now? On the hood of the Vanquish?" he joked, to hide his surprise.

"I meant, you know, _soon_." A tear welled up from nowhere. She already knew the answer would be no.

He struggled for words. "I...I have to be eased into it Bella. The way I acclimatized myself to your sscent. It will be a steady, progressive narrative, our sssexual history." He raised her chin with his fingers and swiped away her tear. "But not without passion. We have to learn to live with my disability. To make love without killing you." He had yet to tell about his plans. The New Hampshire swimming pool, the bedroom, his physical therapy classes...his mother's ring, currently sitting in a steel lock box in an attic in Chicago.

"You're... _disabled_," she replied skeptically, eyebrows raised. "The car-tossing, tree-leaping, Manhunt-winning vampire?"

"YESss," he insisted. "I am. And you will be too, in a sense, once you are a vampire." The sun, the infertility, the relocations, the no-friends rule... He looked up at the darkening sky, and wondered why in the world he had agreed to change her. Oh, _her humanity, her lovely humanity_. He bent to kiss her temple, her cheek, her jaw, letting his tongue and teeth emerge gently of their own accord. What freedom! He was nearly dizzy with the taste of her. He was tempted to nibble at her neck, but knew he was already pushing his limits.

"So...what can you offer me now?" she said, growing breathless. His hands were holding onto her hips in a way that made her think of more than just kissing. She had felt the coming and going of an erection, depending on what they were talking about, depending on how much she lay her body on his. She clearly didn't need to bare her breasts or say lascivious words to arouse him. She vowed not to say 'cock' in front of him again; she was better than Tanya. Love would seduce him best.

He paused. "What do you mean, _offer you now_?"

"I mean tonight. In The Chronicle of the Sexual History of Edward Cullen and Isabella Swan, 26th August 2007. I want to see _progress_. Like a little male nudity. On a big bed. In a tacky country motel with a noisy air conditioner." She hit her fist lightly on his chest.

"I see." Edward smiled. "I can offer you... hm..." he thought carefully, trying to keep his libido in check – but only a little. "Ohmygod. My mouth. I can offer you my mouth. All of it. Anywhere."

"Your mouth," she said weakly. And just like that, his erection was back. "But wait. What about the male nudity part?"

"Hm," he said. He was rubbing his thumb in a circle on her hip bone. She thought she would die of lust, right there.

"it's...it's negotiable. Did you bring the purple lingerie?" he asked, his voice low and rumbling in his chest. His lisp, she noticed, was nearly gone.

"Yes," she whispered. "How far to the next hotel?"

"It will be the _first_ one we come to, I assure you. Hold me tight, my Bella, and kiss me now, as a prologue."

She reached up on her toes, pressing her body against his, and they kissed, with just the briefest, loveliest, preview of tongue.

Edward threw his head back and smiled at the heavens. "Oh, brave new world, that has such kisses in it!" he cried. "Let's go."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Remember your first kiss with tongues? Not the VERY first one, where you said _ew, saliva is embarrassing_, but the first time you really enjoyed it?

I'm afraid real life is getting ready to OWN me again. It was only because of a week's vacation that I was able to write these two chapters! So I've avoided any cliffhangers here at Chapter 13, in case it takes me a while to get to the next smexin' chapter.

Thanks for the support, dear fandom! You've been so lovely and encouraging.


	15. Chapter 15: Nearly Naked

**A/N: Thanks to super-speedy betas Kristi and Angel from Team Project Beta, who know when to use an ellipse, dash and comma far better than I do. And thanks to encouragement from Littlechoo, whose Alice-in-the-asylum story, Sense of Self, is approaching somethin' big pronto.**

**Chapter 15: Nearly Naked**

**August 26, 2007 Rapid City Holiday Inn, South Dakota**

Giddy with anticipation, Bella stumbled into Room 312. In lightning succession Edward righted her, planted her against the wall, shut the door with his foot, and placed both hands on either side of her head. Their eyes met for a moment in the semi-darkened room, then he looked down and watched his hand run smoothly down her body, over her breast, across her stomach and down between her thighs, curling his fingers once against her sex- nearly probing if not for all the fabric in the way. Bella whimpered, and he drew his hand away like it had been bitten.

"Oh God, Bella," he croaked. "Sorry. We should slow down."

She shuddered and laughed a little, because they hadn't really even begun. Mimicking him, she ran her hand down his t-shirt and over his stone abdomen, but she faltered when she got to the top of his jeans. Yesterday's audacious feel-up in the Vanquish embarrassed her now.

Bella glanced up again, hoping he wouldn't think of it too. His chest was still; he was holding his breath.

"Is it that bad already?" she asked, a little alarmed.

He smiled and exhaled. "Pacing myself," he said quickly, then held his breath again and bent his head to kiss her. Bella's hands automatically went to his hair. They trialled their tongues and teeth again, tasting, testing, and exploring until she ached for something... _more_. _ Touch me_, she was about to cry out, or at least _closer_, when he spoke first.

"Purple..." he murmured against her lips.

Bella flushed, feeling pleased all over. "You really liked that purple lingerie," she whispered.

"God, yes, you sexy minx. Will you put it on? Right now?"

"Okay," she squeaked her answer.

He flipped on the light and she nearly tripped over the suitcase at her feet. Shoving it back across the room, he unzipped it before she did, and then stood back while she rummaged. She straightened and held the delicate purple nothings crumpled to her chest in a ball.

"What are _you_ going to wear?" she asked. "Or not wear," she added hopefully.

"Uh. Well, I'm wearing this." He gestured at his clothes.

"I don't think so, Edward Cullen. You have to strip down too. Male nudity, remember?"

He scoffed. "No, no. We can't _both _be nearly naked."

Bella frowned. "And why not?"

He shifted on his feet. "You _know_ why. "

"It doesn't mean we'll go all the way."

"Well...I'm a vampire."

"What," she huffed, "being naked makes you want to bite me?"

"Makes me want to _impale_ you, Bella. I'll go feral. I'll lose it. It could happen without your consent. It would be like a little too close to... Christ, I don't want to say it." _Rape _was the word that came to his mind, and the idea almost made him ill. "I may not even notice your protests if I'm hurting you. Then yes, I might bite you as well...for dessert."

Bella very much wanted to be impaled. With vigor. But she remembered, in the meadow, how he had ignored her tugging on his ear and pulling at his shirt. She would never want him to feel he had violated her somehow. She bit her lip and looked down at the lingerie in her hands. "Okay," she sighed. "You said you'd have to be eased into it. I'll respect that. So, only one of us goes naked."

"_Nearly_ naked. Agreed. Thank you, my darling." Edward swallowed and realised how much venom his mouth had been producing, all through the kissing, almost as if in anticipation of a meal. There was no way he could handle her entirely naked. No way. Having her skirt bunched around her waist in the meadow had somehow kept him in check - barely_. _He will just have to keep his hands away from those tempting purple sash ties. Yes, he'd double-knot them first thing.

"Okay," she said, tucking her lingerie back into her suitcase. "Do you want some privacy?"

"Me?" he said, bemused.

"Yeah." She squared her shoulders. "I'll go brush my teeth. And you can take off your clothes." She flashed him a saucy smile and swiped her toiletries bag from her case. "I'll wear this." She gestured at her own clothing.

"But...but the purple..."

"Let me know when you're ready," she called over her shoulder.

"You little trickster," he complained to the closing bathroom door. He put his hands atop his head and paced a bit in front of the bed, trying to decide whether to give in to this coercion. "Hey," he called through the door. "No toothpaste, okay?" _Minty fresh_ could not compare to the taste of Bella.

"Okay," she sang back, before turning on the faucet. She sounded positively gleeful.

"Minx," he muttered, with a wry smile.

When she came out, the lights were off. "Where are you?" she giggled. She found the light switch and flipped it back on.

He was leaning against the desk-chest-of-drawers-unit, wearing plaid pajama trousers and no shirt. His sculpted arms were folded across his chest and he looked at her with one raised eyebrow. A bronzed lock of hair stood erect toward the ceiling.

Bella swooned a little inside. He was utter perfection, a beauty of mythological magnitude.

"Can't we have the lights off?" he whined, flashing his blue teeth and shattering the illusion. She laughed.

"You saw me in broad daylight," she countered.

"Yeah, true," he growled and looked away, his arms still tight across his body.

"Compromise," she suggested. She flipped off the room switch, but left the bathroom light on.

She approached him slowly, feeling a little nervous. She couldn't help but think of Tanya, who must be the consummate provider of handjob gratification. Bella had no idea what she was doing or how far she intended to go. She certainly had no idea how to go about giving a blow job, except that you went up and down with the thing in your mouth. It must involve blowing at some point, but that sounded a bit suspect. A penis wasn't a _whistle_. And he might refuse, if what Tanya said is true. _He could dislodge your windpipe, _she'd said, _once he got going. _ Bella was not afraid. Tanya would not dictate what they could and could not do.

"I want to touch you," she whispered, taking his wrists. He let her unfold his arms. Standing before him, she watched his breath rise and fall and reached out to graze the sprinkling of auburn hair on his chest.

He put one hand in her hair, behind her neck; he needed to connect to her too. He followed her movements with half closed eyes as he leaned against the desk.

She traced her finger along the lines of his abs, marvelling that he would never have to do a single sit-up to maintain such definition. His breath drew in when she reached the path of hair beneath his navel. Up and down, she slowly moved the side of her finger between his navel and the double waistband of boxers and pajamas. His cock jerked and she only just stifled her virginal squeal of delight. She stilled her hand, fascinated, and watched his penis distend the fabric.

"Does it always go to the side at first?" she asked.

"Do you have to keep _looking_ at it?" he asked huskily. He drew his finger beneath her chin and raised her face to look at him. He was trying to smirk, but she could see the embarrassment in his eyes.

"Don't be shy." She brushed his face with her fingertips. "I love you." She kissed him on the chest, just above his heart.

He swallowed. "Okay," he said, like he was giving consent.

She looked down again at his erection and felt desire flood her body. How funny, that looking at a bulgy thing, like a big kielbasa sausage link under his shorts, could make her face hot, her heartbeat race, her panties wet? Totally wet. Hopefully he couldn't smell it beneath her full skirt.

She held her hand poised in the air, unsure how to proceed next.

"Careful," he warned softly. "It's like a lead pipe to you, even at half-mast."

"It's not like you're going to hit me over the head with it," she murmured. "Colonel Masen with a lead pipe in the Conservatory."

He laughed and his penis bounced a little.

A chime sounded from the floor. A text message on his phone, in his pocket, in his discarded jeans. They both turned their heads to look toward the noise.

"It's not Alice," he said grimly. Bella already knew this because Edward had set the phone to a particular chime for Alice.

Which meant it was probably The Bitch from Alaska, responding at last.

"We'll ignore it," declared Bella, and she looked up at him challengingly.

He blinked his agreement, and with fresh motivation, Bella hooked her fingers in the top of his boxers and pajamas and tugged both garments down. They caught on his cock and she had to pull his waistband clear.

"Oh," she swallowed. "Goodness. Is that... is that a big one?"

"Good God, woman," he muttered. "Are you going to touch it or kiss me or _something_? I'm dying here."

Maybe it would be more instinctive if she didn't look. She put her face to his chest, while reaching blindly with her fingertips. _Balls first,_ she decided, _then work your way up. _

He moaned on cue when she reached her goal, exploring and sussing out exactly the shape and texture of the things with her fingers. Wow. _Balls._ Were vampire balls firmer than regular balls, she wondered?

_THWACK._

Pain shot through her wrist and she leapt back, fighting to keep from crying out.

"Bella?"

Clutching her wrist, she ran into the bathroom.

"_Bella!_" He appeared beside her, still pulling up his pajamas. "Shit. Shit. Shit. I'm so sorry. Let me see."

"No," she said soundlessly, as it was still smarting so hard she couldn't speak. "It's fine," she managed to choke out, though she turned away and hunched over to hide it.

"No, it's not _fine_. My dick probably fractured your wrist," he said bitterly. "Let me see."

"You'll never let me touch you again," she wailed, but she laid it on the bathroom counter after a moment. He tenderly examined, turned and probed her wrist like a doctor, while she winced and fought tears.

"It might be only bruised," he declared hopefully.

He fetched ice (at high speed, in case someone wandered out of their room and caught a half-naked still-aroused young man in the halls), and they wrapped it up in a towel. He found some Motrin in her toiletries bag.

"We should have it x-rayed, to be sure," he said.

"Tomorrow, please. Not tonight." She hung her head and this time a tear spilled out of her eye. "Epic FAIL."

"It's not an exam," he said, putting his arms carefully around her (and keeping his hips at a distance). "Don't cry, love. We'll figure something out," he said, though he was skeptical. His dick was a dangerous weapon, a policeman's nightstick, a ninja nunchuk. He had rapped her with it, like a reprimanding schoolmaster with a ruler! Jesus Christ, what a freak.

He sighed, rested his chin atop her head, and rubbed a slow circle soothingly against her upper arm.

She met his eyes in the bathroom mirror and sniffled noisily. "Why does it keep leaping like that?"

"Because of you and your talented fingers," he said with affection, trying to cheer them both up. "The spongy tissue fills with venom, sometimes very quickly," he amended, when she didn't smile back. "And it twitches until it's fully hard. It would be the same if it filled with blood."

She leaned back against him and started. "Um. Are you hard right now? Still?"

"I'm sorry," he said, embarrassed, withdrawing his hips again. "One would think your injury would quell its...uh, enthusiasm, but you had really gotten me worked up. And once it's fully up..."

She pulled his bare arms tighter around her and pushed her ass against him. "_Oh,_ yes, it's up."

They stood at the bathroom counter for a full minute, staring at one another in the mirror, both tallying a risk assessment in their minds. They weighed pleasure versus the risk of injury, all the while revelling in the way his stiff cock fit nicely against the top cleft of her ass.

"There's a lot more padding back there," she persuaded softly.

"And it's full on now," he answered back. "Twitches done."

They silently agreed to something, though it wasn't clear what. Maybe they'd just stand there and fantasize they could go further.

"Don't move," he whispered suddenly, and he began to gather up the front of her long skirt in one hand.

"Edwaaaard," she scolded, forgetting her tears and her pain, "you agreed that I would keep my clothes on, and _you_ would be undressed."

"Uh-huh," he hummed, his mouth twitching at the corner.

He nudged her cheek with his nose and she twisted her head to kiss him. She nearly jumped when she felt his cold finger slip beneath the leg-elastic of her underwear. She uttered a small cry against his lips. Oh my God, the feeling of his cock against her ass plus his tongue in her mouth plus his finger _down there_? She thought she would die of too much sensation, right then and there.

"Oh _yes_," she said, and frantically she tried to lift the back of her skirt up, between their bodies.

"No," he commanded, breaking their kiss. "Just the front. This skirt is your chastity belt: the only thing that prevents me from ripping through your underwear and taking you from behind."

_Taking you from behind. _ Yes, Bella truly dissolved into a puddle of goo. She leaned her head back against his shoulder and trembled against him, imagining his erection between her bare-ass cheeks, then imagining him plunging himself into her. As his finger was now plunging into her, this wasn't hard to imagine. Bella opened her eyes just in time to see where his other hand was heading: the buttons of her shirt.

She was about to cry foul again, but he slipped a long finger beneath the placket of her shirt without disturbing the buttons. She lifted woozy eyes to his reflection – was he really going to stimulate her in three different places? Her virgin vampire wore a smirk that was somehow both arrogant and helpless at the same time.

"Cheater, cheater, pumpk...," she accused.

"You're still completely dressed," he said in her ear, then his finger found her nipple, beneath her bra. "_Oh_," she groaned again, when he circled it tortuously.

"Pumpkin eeeater," she said, almost delirious now.

He grinned proudly at himself in the mirror. She was utterly falling apart.

_I'd like to eat something else,_ he decided. And he flipped her around and lifted her onto the counter top. She shrieked.

"Sorry. Too fast?"

She didn't answer, but only cried 'pleeease'. She was growing desperate for relief.

"I'm going down," he reassured her, tapping his blue teeth with his finger. He dipped his head, pausing to kiss the swell of her still-covered breast.

"Down?" she cried, panicking a little.

"I'm going down," he repeated. "On you."

She grabbed a fistful of his hair. "But, but – it's... it's _smelly _down there."

"Yes," he agreed, laughing throatily.

He dived beneath her skirt this time, throwing it over his head. She scrambled for purchase on the countertop with her uninjured hand, trying to figure out where to put her feet. She threw her head back, anticipating, wanting...

"Edward?"

He was perfectly still, with one hand around her thigh. She couldn't hear him breathing.

Then he was gone. Bella had to make a grab for the faucet to keep from sliding off.

"_Edward_ ," she almost sobbed, "if you've run away again this time I'll...I'LL KEY YOUR VANQUISH." She called to the room: "I'LL WALK ON YOUR BERGDORFERTHING WITH STILETTOS, I'LL SHARPIE YOUR JOURNALS—"

And he was back, with two plastic bags from their visit to Target earlier in the day. He dumped her purchases (Oreos, Snapple, three tangerines and a six-pack of diet Cokes) carelessly onto the floor, punched his fist through the bottom of one bag, then the other.

"W-what are you doing?" she asked, staring.

He shook his head; he wasn't breathing and he wasn't laughing anymore.

Edward lifted her foot and threaded it through the hole, sliding the bag all the way up to her thigh. He twisted the top, until the bag was a snug plastic sheath over her thigh, knotted it, and tucked it in neatly, like a bandage. He proceeded to do the other thigh as well, his hands moving as swiftly as if he were playing _Rhapsody in Blue_ on the piano. She watched, beginning to understand. She had a major artery there. The femoral artery. Did a flimsy plastic bag help that much?

He raised his face to look at her, blinked, and produced an anguished expression that said _I'm going in_. You'd think he was going to face the enemy on the beaches of Normandy. She was about to stop him – this was no way to make love – when she felt his fingers move aside her underwear and the first touch of his lips on her labia.

She bucked, but he had anticipated this and was already holding her still on the countertop. Ten seconds later, she was a moaning, aching, writhing mess. She finally managed to pull up her skirt; she had to _see _him doing this to her. _Oh my God oh my god oh my god_, Bella cried out like Jessica Stanley herself, while she watched this newbie, this perfect amateur, instinctively sharpen and flatten, and drag and poke his tongue in all the right places. Spiralling, coiling, building, her orgasm approached. Her head lolled to the side and she suddenly noticed the full-length mirror on the wall next to the door. Just before she came, she took in his full reflection: her lanky, beautiful Edward, on his knees amidst Diet Cokes and tangerines, his crazy hair poking up from deep between her plastic-bagged thighs, with one hand holding her steady - the other wrapped firmly around his own dick. With his pajamas pushed down around his thighs, he moved his hand so fast it was a blur. Bella barely had time to register her surprise when something shot out the end and his cry released against her clit. The text-chime sounded again from the other room, as she came at last, right on his face.

**000000000000**

Yes. Ahem. I hope no one I know in RL ever finds out I write this stuff. Lordy.

So all sex and no plot advancement this chapter. The unabridged accounts of E/B sex won't consume the rest of the story, I promise. There's plenty of decently written smut out there already .


	16. Chapter 16: A ring, a glove, a warning

Thanks readers, for your patience. Real life makes its demands you know.

Recap, 'cause it's been so long: B and E are making their way across the Midwest, having reconciled after Edward's confession regarding his aborted sexual encounter with Tanya. B and E decide it's time to initiate their own sexual history, starting with a feel-up of Edward, but ending with a bathroom counter encounter. Bella's hand gets bruised, Edward wears Kevlar on his teeth, and Target plastic bags are involved.

**Chapter 16: A ring, a glove, a warning**

**August 28 (two days later) An Attic in Irving Park, Chicago**

Edward worked efficiently, removing the floorboard sections and stacking them to the side. He reached blindly into the hole, felt the cool edge of metal, and dragged out his steel treasure-hold. He had added or taken the odd item over the last eighty years, but he had never left with the entire box.

He could not stop himself; he flipped the clasps, opened the lid and sought out the velvet bag. Turning it over, the ring fell into his palm. With an ache of both joy and nostalgia he admired the setting, the stones, and the elegant and old-fashioned design. It would suit Bella.

He had thought he would never have cause to take it out. Ever. "You would like her, mother," he whispered, straining for the wispy (and probably idealized) memory he had of Elizabeth Masen. "You would love Bella, as I do." He felt extraordinarily happy and alive.

His elderly cousin -first cousin twice-removed, more accurately- sat dozing two floors below, with the television at full volume. Now mostly deaf, she was unlikely to hear his movements. He contemplated going down to see her, though she might freak out since she had only ever seen him on the top floors. He had encountered her face-to-face six times over the last eighty years and they had had some interesting conversations. Since she was a child, Louise sincerely believed he was the ghost of the Masen boy who had died of the Spanish Flu in 1917. She had never once considered calling the police to remove the teen intruder in her attic.

Soon old Louise would leave this earth and the Masen homestead would pass out of the family. Should he buy the crumbling Italianate pile, he wondered? Bella had eyed it with a certain amount of romantic curiosity when he drove her by. It would be entirely a sentimental purchase and a high maintenance investment.

_It didn't matter._ Now his home was wherever Bella would be. 12 Balch Road, Hanover, New Hampshire would be their first home together. He felt a little flutter of anticipation. Maybe he would propose on her birthday, just a month away now.

Giving the old house (and the old dame) a farewell salute, Edward tucked the box beneath his arm and dove out the attic window, as silently as he had come in.

**Lake Forest Mall, Chicago Illinois**

Bella spent a pleasant hour among the Barnes and Noble bookshelves, passing the time until Edward would return to pick her up. She badly wanted to see the inside of the Masen family home, but showing up on the doorstep with an obviously human girlfriend might stretch his credibility as a ghost. He was "picking up a few things" but declined to say what they were.

Bella wandered into the psychology and self-help section and slowed her pace when she reached the sex manual area. She was too embarrassed to actually handle any of the books, but she skimmed the titles furtively with her eyes.

Who was she kidding? A book about _A Hundred and One Positions for Lovers_ or _Finding the Whore in You_ was not going to help their situation. She was better off looking in a Forbidden Planet store. _How to have Sex with your Middle Earth Elf. _ Bella touched her blue wrist gently. It had only been bruised, thank goodness.

Bella departed Barnes and Noble with a restrained, single Barbara Kinsolver purchase. She gravitated toward a large sporting goods store, knowing that nothing in there would tempt her to spend her travel money. Her eyes glazed over as she circulated the rows of fishing gear, then football gear, then golf gear...so instead she relived the events in the bathroom of the Rapid City Holiday Inn in great mental detail, with an lazy, goofy little smile on her face. The Tanya-texts pricked at the back of her mind, but she ignored them for now, and indulged herself in thoughts of Edward.

"Hey, that's one sick shiner you've got there."

"Pardon?"

"Your bruise." A guy in a fake vintage rock t-shirt was speaking to her. His friend stood behind him, peering over at Bella's wrist.

She covered her bruise with the other hand. He had said 'sick' like it was compliment.

"Didn't you use protection?"

"Uh..." Her face heated up like a furnace in winter. "Actually, no," she mumbled, thinking of Edward's spermless semen and the fact that he had ejaculated into the air at least two feet below her uterus. "Wait, _what_?"

"Geez, girl, you're _hard_," guffawed the friend, his eyes wide. He stepped forward and started to lift his shirt.

Bella drew back. He had four ugly purple bruises, almost like circular welts, on his skinny upper chest, which he seemed strangely proud of. "My," was all she could think of to say.

"We're going again tomorrow," he beamed, "end of the summer, you know? But I'd be brickin' it if I played without _some_ kind of armored protection. I'd be, like 'noooooooo'!" And he did a little pantomime like he was dodging a bullet. "Where do you 'ball?"

"Where do I..._ball_."

"Yeah, like we don't know ANY cool girls that are...well, _cool _enough to be paintballers. That is _sick_." This was said with the greatest admiration.

"And do you, like, have a friend?" said the first guy, blinking owlishly.

Bella suddenly noticed where her meandering, erotic daydreams had led her: to the front of a giant display of plastic guns, goggles, stuffed camouflage vests, padded fingerless gloves, and some strap-on things called hoppers. Paintballing.

She looked at her wrist, the fingerless gloves and the two boys. "What kind of armor do you recommend?"

**Suite 4, 30****th**** floor  
The Drake Hotel, Chicago Illinois**

"I want to know everything. Including what to do. Are you ready?"

"Ready," he whispered, and he took her gloved hand in his.

She strained to see his body in the darkness. His silhouette was backlit from the scattered city lights through the window. "Can we turn on the lights this time?"

"No," he said. He took a breath and guided her hand. "Okay, Scrotum. _Dartos Tunic." _

"Dartos Tunic, really?" she said, with a snort.

"Yes," he said, very seriously.

"Not too fast," she said. "I want to check things out." She inched her fingers between his to explore.

"But—" He felt the physiological rush of venom – not to his salivary glands, but to his face, to his chest, to his groin. And just like before, it _jerked_.

They froze. This time the raised plastic ridges that encircled her wrist had taken the impact.

"Didn't that hurt?"

"Didn't that hurt _you_?"

"No."

"Me either."

"Then_ proceed _with the tour, teacher," she said, delighted with her own ingenuity.

He peered down at the cheap, black-and-camouflage glove and her pale fingers protruding from the trimmed ends. This just might work. "The base," he continued, trying to focus. "Here are the _Corpora cavernosa –"_

"Did you learn all this in medical school?" she interrupted.

"Yes...and beneath," he shuddered, "the _Corpus spongiosum_." He guided her hand. "Cylindrical tissue when flaccid, but when all together erect –"

"Ooh. _Not_ cylindrical, is it? More like a rounded Toblerone chocolate shape. Sort of."

He would have laughed, except that he had just pictured Bella putting a Toblerone in her mouth. Fellatio was impossible for them, he reminded himself, at least as long as she was human. "Uh...Dorsal vein," he croaked, as her finger found it. "_Glans_. Frenum oh sweet Jesus." He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face to the side.

"Are you trying to make this as unsexy as possible?" she said. She propped her head up with her elbow. "I don't need to know the medical terms, just how to touch you."

"Feels pretty sexy to me," he groaned and his head jerked to the other side.

"Okay." She pushed his hand away. "I want to try it on my own." She started at the base again, trying out a grip of varying strengths. It seemed to grow even bigger in her hand, but without the drama of leaping.

"Don't hover," she chided, playfully. She reached over and placed his restless hands, one at a time, on the headboard. "Leave them here, Edward. I've got wrist armor, remember."

"Yes, yes," he conceded. He let his head fall back against the headboard, because watching her hand explore his cock was already threatening to take him over the edge. Somehow the paintballing glove, ugly as it was, made the view more erotic.

"So velvety," she murmured. "The head is supposed to be sensitive, right?" She tested this theory with her index finger.

"Uhah –huh," he sucked in a breath, nodding.

"Here goes," she said, almost to herself. "Tell me if the gloves are, you know, _chafing_." She leaned against his torso, wrapped her thumb and fingers around his girth, and started pumping her hand like a jackhammer.

"WAIT," he gave a little cry and sat up abruptly. "No, wait... STOP."

"Is it the gloves? Or... oh no." She withdrew her fingers and curled them against her chest, mortified. "That's not how you're supposed to do it?"

"Well, yes ...and no. Ultimately, yes." He struggled to explain. The disparity between her literate, intelligent maturity and her sexual innocence left him reeling sometimes.

"I mean," she ventured, "I know basically what to do. And you...well, that's how you do it to yourself."

He blanched. "How could you possibly know _how I do it_?"

"I saw you. You moved your hand so fast it was a blur."

"Oh," he said in a strangled voice. "When was this?"

"Just the other day."

"In the shower?" he asked, then gave a one-eyed wince. He had just given himself away.

Bella took a second to process his answer. "Um...no. You were on your knees, you know, between _my_ knees, and well, there was a side mirror."

"Ah. _Then."_ He ran his hand through his hair. "I didn't realize you had seen me."

"Anyway," she said quietly, looking away. "I thought that's how I should do it. I'm sorry that I can't move my hand as fast as..." She had almost said _as fast as Tanya. _"...a vampire."

"Oh Bella," he said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "What you saw was all about relief - as soon as possible. Speed doesn't equal quality."

This wasn't helping. Bella wasn't sure she could deliver speed or quality. They sat in silence for a moment, and Bella looked at her glove, her shirt hem, anywhere but at his erection. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark by now and one glance told her it remained at full attention. An elephant in the room. He pulled the sheet over himself, self-conscious once again.

"Hey," he said, so softly she almost didn't hear him. "Come here and kiss me. I've got my blue mouth on."

She smiled, feeling suddenly close to tears. She so badly wanted to please him, to touch him like a woman and not a girl. Bella shifted her body and brushed her lips to his. She rose up on her knees and put her hands in his hair. She kissed his brow, his eyelids, the tip of his nose. Her tears brimmed but did not fall.

"Can I try again?" she whispered against his cheek.

"And again and again," he said, putting his fingers in the belt loops of her jeans and pulling her to his chest. "Start slowly. Use your instinct. Touch me as you love me."

_As you love me. That _she could do. "Will you tell me when you like it?"

"I will tell you."

Their eyes met in the darkness. She kissed him on the mouth, proving herself with the most sensuous, lingering, indulgent kiss she could bestow.

"Ah there's my Bella," he said, breathing a little harder. He pulled her down beside him again, took her gloved hand, and slipped it beneath the sheet. This gesture somehow turned her on more than her first full-on grab two minutes ago. "Please..." he said. He leaned back and placed his hands on the rim of the headboard; he offered her full control.

"Do you like..._this_?" she asked, pretending it was like any other part of his body she wanted to caress. From balls to tip and back again, she moved slowly this time. Heat prickled across her face and chest and seemed to trace a path down her arm.

"Yes." He groaned a little. "That's damn good."

She turned her eyes from the shape of her hand, moving tentatively beneath the sheet, to his face. The lights from the Hancock building across the street cast an orange, almost fiery light through the hotel windows, across the planes of his face, his neck, his biceps and broad shoulders. His eyes were closed and his chin lifted, his lips parted. He was God's beautiful gift.

"And what about _this_?" She applied a little more pressure, a little more confidence to her movements.

"Good God, yes, that too." His face twitched this time, rather than his cock, which was rock solid in her hand.

"What about it do you like?"

"Fuck me, all of it," he moaned, knocking his head back against the headboard a few times.

She beamed in triumph. He'd said _fuck me_.

"Tell me," she pressed, mesmerized. "Tell me what you like." She'd never realized there could be variety in a handjob. Lauren Mallory had hinted in the cafeteria, in an elevated, smug tone that would carry to the ears of the less experienced, that the act was a chore.

He seemed to be having trouble speaking. "Your nails...balls. Thumb...head. GOD," he cried, just as she felt a little moisture on her thumb. She was going to ask if that meant he was 'coming', but he rasped, "Don't stop." She leaned against him now, putting her hot cheek against his cold chest. Would the stuff hit her in the face? Would vampire jizz shoot out like Charlie's pressure washer cleaning the deck? Burn a hole in the wall like a laser beam?

With the ball of her foot, Bella nudged the sheet down his thighs to give herself a little more freedom and a brazen view. Bizarrely, her mouth started to water. She felt achy and lightheaded and slightly detached from what her hand was doing.

"Sssteady," he hissed, and she figured _now_ was the time for the pump-action thing, though at a sustainable human speed. Suddenly, his rhythmic moans went completely silent, and he took one hand off the headboard. She thought perhaps he wanted to guide her speed? Hold her close when he climaxed? Should she go fetch another Target bag? No, he put his hand on her shoulder and pressed, pushing her off his torso while she continued to pump.

Bella wondered if this was some clue to stop, but one look at his face immediately told her otherwise.

Which was the more compelling view? His lower abs, his tense thighs, her paintball-gloved-hand moving on his cock? Or his glorious, expressive face?

His sculptured torso flexed and his penis gave short, fascinating little pulses when he came all over his stomach, but Bella decided that a man's face, especially when contracted in pleasure, was actually his most erotic feature.

**8*8*8*8*8***

Bella leaned forward and scrutinized the steel lockbox that sat on the suite's coffee table. Despite its simple shape, it had a vintage, 1930's look about it. Edward's sleek contemporary phone, Italian wallet, and Vanquish keys lay on the table beside it. She wondered what was inside the box but certainly wasn't going to even touch it without Edward present. He was in the shower, after Handjob-Round-Two, which was just as messy as round one. Sex was messy, thought Bella.

_And fun_.

A little thrill bubbled up from inside her, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to suppress the teen-like urge to squeal. She couldn't _wait_ to do the whole thing. To go all the way. At this rate, they'd lose their virginity by her nineteenth birthday. _Yes._ That would be the big day. She would seduce him if necessary, and by then she'd know a little better how to do so, without the danger of him 'going feral'. She'd have to find a way around the one-person-naked-at-time rule.

Her eyes moved to his phone and her bubble deflated a little. She picked it up and started when the screen activated. _Two unread messages,_ it said. Caller: _Tanya._

_Oh._ He still had not read them. Two days later and he still had not read them. That was good, right?

The shower noise ceased, and she knew he would be out in less than two minutes. He didn't have to shave, clip toenails or even apply deodorant.

"Edward," she called from where she sat on the sofa. There was no need to raise her voice.

He cracked the door. "Yes, Bella-sweet," he said, his voice playful. "I thought you were going to try to sleep." It was two in the morning.

"I can't. I'm dying to know what's in this box," she said. _And maybe we should have another round_.

"Well, open it and have a look," he said, grinning at her. He couldn't stop smiling, actually. Edward had already taken out the ring and hidden it in one of the inner _inner _compartments of his suitcase. "I'll be out in a moment."

"And you have two unread messages," she added casually, holding up his phone. "From You-Know-Who."

His smile faltered. For a fleeting moment he considered a few remarkabale similarities between Voldemort and Tanya. He leaned his cheek against the doorframe, holding on to the towel around his waist.

"Um. Yeah," he said. "They're not new." Bella and Edward stared at each other across the room for three whole seconds, both recalling the two text-chimes that had invaded their sexual experiments at the Holiday Inn. Now each waited for the other to make some judgement, some decision, some declaration.

"You can delete them," he said suddenly with a deliberate shrug. He was keen to demonstrate his indifference to Tanya and this was a good place to start. The content of the messages was bound to be argumentative and provoking, and he would feel compelled to answer. Tanya knew exactly how to engage Edward in debate; she had done so countless times throughout their forty year acquaintance. If he ignored Tanya, she would soon find distraction enough in the arms of a fresh human male.

"Aren't you curious?" asked Bella, dragging her eyes away from the towel to look at his phone. "I would be."

"She is irrelevant," he said, something he had told Bella in the past and meant. "Go ahead and delete them," he said and closed the door.

Hm. He had put a decision into her hands: to read or not to read before deletion. Bella's stomach gave a little lurch. She hated the idea of spending her freshman year under the shadow of another Victoria-like threat. Indeed, Bella was surprised Edward hadn't seen the similarity in the situations and gone all protective on her. Of course, Edward hadn't seen Tanya's black, feral stare in the garage, hadn't heard her say 'I won't stand for it'.

Bella took a breath and hit the _open inbox_ button.

Message one:  
_ If little faults, proceeding on distemper,  
Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye  
When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd and digested,  
Appear before us?_

More Shakespeare, Bella was willing to bet on it. The 'little fault' was Tanya's 'heavenly mouthful' comment, perhaps. _Little, my ass,_ thought Bella. Tanya knew exactly what emotional havoc her words would unleash. And the 'capital crime'? Was it the plan to turn Bella?

Bella pushed more buttons.

Message two:  
_ It is the bright day that brings forth the adder;  
And that craves wary walking_

Indeed. Bella gripped the phone and renewed her resolve. She would consult Alice the oracle. Yes, Alice would know what to do.

Edward was whistling now, in the bathroom. It was Bella's lullaby, but with a jazzy, drawn out inflection at the end of each phrase. He sounded so happy. _He is mine,_ she thought. She had never felt possessive about anything in her life until now. _The vampire in the bathroom is mine._

Bella committed the quotes to memory as best she could, deleted the texts and was opening the clasps of the steel box just as Edward came out of the bathroom.

**8*8*8*8*8*8*8***

Author's note: Too sex-focused, too dull, or too ridiculous? Plot being drawn out unnecessarily?

If you are tempted to flounce, let me know why. Authors want to know why readers leave a story, especially because a writer can no longer see her own story objectively. Otherwise how can I improve? Thank you , dear friends and readers.


	17. Chapter 17 Ready for Splendor

**Author's note: Summer at last, and now I have some time to write! Thanks to all who have stuck with the story while I slowly slowly update. Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer.**

**Thanks to lovely and speedy betas Kristi and Angel – they did it over 4****th**** of July weekend! And thanks to Little Choo too.**

A recap if you've forgotten: Bella donned padded gloves to avoid injury from Edward's uh, leaping lead pipe. Edward retrieved a steel box, containing his mother's ring, from the Masen house in Chicago. Bella finally read Tanya enigmatic texts.

**Chapter 17: Ready for Splendor**

"What is so special about this stuff that you don't drag it around every time the Cullen family relocates?" Bella rested her hands on the unopened steel box.

"These are things I don't want to lose, if we ever had to leave in a hurry," he replied, emerging from the bathroom.

Mm, pajama flannel trousers and wet hair and no shirt. He paused, rubbed his head vigorously all over with a towel, then unceremoniously let it drop to the carpet.

Suddenly he was beside her on the sofa. With a lusty, self-satisfied smile, he slipped his hand around her waist and tucked one finger inside the waistband of her pajama flannels, tickling her side. Still aching a little from the lack of her own satisfaction, she swatted him on the knee; he just nuzzled her ear in response. Tanya's texts were clearly the last thing on his mind.

"Go on," he said, indicating the box. "Open it."

"Ooh," she squealed, plucking out a sepia-toned photo.

She held a picture of a baby, sex indeterminate, in lace cap and white gown. Fat cheeked and staring. It could have been any baby from the turn of the century. "That's you?"

He nodded. "Carlisle retrieved these from the family home, just hours before turning me."

"Carlisle, _breaking and entering_," she muttered dryly and selected a second photo. "Aha, now that's you for sure." Edward was a solemn boy of twelve or thirteen, posed with his formidable-looking parents in a formal studio shot.

Bella never understood early photography's propensity for stiff, unsmiling portraits – what a waste! How she would have loved to see a laughing adolescent Edward on one of those funky, big-wheeled bicycles. It was strange to see him in period dress, a contemporary of her Gran's family portraits... yet here he sat beside her, young, smooth-skinned and virile.

There was a genetic resemblance: a nose from his father, cheekbones and forehead from his mother. "It was already clear you were going to be a knockout," she commented.

"No, that only came with vampirism."

"So you admit to being a knockout," she teased, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Yes," he said, without vanity, and Bella wondered if one day she would be so equally nonchalant about being a gorgeous vampire.

He passed her a gold pocket watch, pearl hatpin, a mottled stone collected from the shore of Lake Michigan, and a dog's brass tag.

"You had a dog?" she asked, surprised.

"Alistair was his name," said Edward. "I think I loved him, though I can't actually remember specifics. Only a general sentiment. Of course, now I abhor dogs."

"'Abhor' is a strong word," protested Bella, thinking of Jacob.

"Yes it is," agreed Edward, also thinking of Jacob.

At the bottom of the box was a folded cloth, like half a kitchen towel. _Property of South Shore Hospital _was stamped across the hem, marred by a reddish brown stain about 3 inches across.

"Is this blood?" she asked.

"Yes."

"_Your_ blood."

Edward nodded, his smile turning grim. "Carlisle saved it. The last vestige of my humanity."

Bella set the cloth down and slipped her arms around his cold, solid waist. "You are you," she said simply. "Compassionate. Loyal. _Good._ It doesn't matter where you fall on the spectrum of humanity."

"Oh Bella." Edward shook his head with gratitude. He drew her close and they sank back into the deep sofa. "Thank you."

They kissed carefully, as he wasn't wearing his mouthguard. Gradually slipping down the cushions, they exchanged soft, slow kisses against lips, against neck, against cold cheek and hot chin, until she was falling asleep against him. He stroked her silky hair with one hand and her hip with the other, feeling utterly content and relaxed. This must be what _dozing_ was like, he thought. Was this happiness...or a post-hand-job glow? He didn't care; he could stay like this for a century.

"Edward," she murmured.

"Yes, my girl," he whispered.

"We haven't talked about turning me in a while." Her eyes were closed, her nose squished against his unyielding skin.

"I thought we had agreed on _when_. After college at least. Twenty-six would be ideal."

"But that is _forever _from now." She poked her finger ineffectually at his chest. "Maybe I don't want to have a career," she mumbled. "I want to go to high school again. I want to kick Tanya's ass."

Edward laughed softly. "You're not making sense, sleepyhead."

"I am too," she insisted. "You're just being dense."

"Tomorrow. We'll talk about it tomorrow when you're more awake. Can I take you to bed?"

"Yes please, with you," she sighed. And he scooped her up, deposited her in the bed and slipped in beside her. She slept and he held her, the first time with both of them in pajamas , albeit the modest flannel variety.

**8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8***

**August 29****th****. Elyria, Ohio**

"Don't we need gas?" Bella watched a Texaco station go by and the needle on the Vanquish fuel gauge get a little lower.

"Yes, but that station has no overhang... no shade."

"Oh. You're right. I didn't even notice."

"Start noticing, my love. It limits everything I can do. And_ you_ can do, eventually."

"What would you do if you couldn't find a shady gas station?" she asked curiously.

"Pull over and wait until dark."

"You're kidding." She chewed on a nail and tried to think of a better solution. "How utterly... _boring_."

"Yes," he agreed. "Being a vampire can be excruciatingly boring. It's a handicap, remember?"

"Hm," she said, unconvinced. "Okay, let me fill up. I _can_ pump gas, you know," she said with feigned indignance, "though I am a woman."

"You are that," he sighed, and she gave his hand a squeeze. They had held hands and played with each other's fingers the entire drive from Chicago, except when he had to let go to shift gears. Now he reached over and rested his fingers on her knee, eliciting a little shudder.

"Too cold?" he asked, hoping it wasn't.

"No," she said, and to demonstrate she tugged her skirt up beneath his fingers so that his hand lay on her bare skin.

"Very nice," he approved. Her knees were a little knobbly and skinny and very Bella-like. Edward grinned, his eyes on the road. He lightly flexed and palmed his hand against her knee, feeling every skin cell.

"Look, Edward," she squeaked, then cleared her throat and pointed. "_Look_. Conoco ahead. And there's a minimart too."

He scowled a little. "The locals won't like it. You pumping the gas."

Bella rolled her eyes. "Please. It's the twenty first century. And since when do you care what others think of you?"

"It's what they think of _you _that concerns me," he muttered. He released her knee and pulled reluctantly up to the pumps, leaning toward the console so that his arm didn't catch the sunlight.

"They'll think I'm really cool," she replied silkily, opening the door. "_This_ is an Aston Martin after all."

_We'll see, _he thought.

The Vanquish immediately attracted the attention of everyone at the corner station.

_What a selfish little shit, sitting in his expensive car while the girl fills up. Are manners totally dead in this country? _

_God, girlfriend. What are you, his bitch? Get a backbone. . _

Funny, that they all assumed the car was his rather than Bella's, that the driver should pump the gas, that the man should be the one pumping. Was that progress or not? Edward gritted his teeth and redirected his attention to the map on his lap. "Hotel, hotel," he muttered to himself, connecting his phone to the internet. It was only four in the afternoon, but oh _OH_ he could _so_ get a room right this minute.

Tonight it would be his turn to touch her. _To part those knobbly knees and watch her fall apart,_ said the caveman in him. He mentally shook himself. Their foray into new sexual territory only encouraged his feral and possessive nature. He must try to temper his dominating tendencies if he was to uphold his bargain with Charlie.

_That's right dude, make her work for your money._

_Poor dear. I wonder if he even lets her drive it. _

The cell phone rang out. "Alice," he answered, glad for the distraction.

"No, it's Jasper, actually, on Alice's phone. She's not speaking to you at the moment."

Edward flinched. "Uh, yeah, Jasper...sorry about the other day...the comments about Maria..."

"Well," Jasper drawled. "It took me about ten hours to figure out what Alice was sulking about and a whole 'nother five to figure out that you invented every word."

"Ah. I was trying to make a point; apologies for involving you."

"Hmm." Jasper was quiet for a moment. "I'll have to fight you when you get here," he decided matter-of-factly.

"Yeah okay." Edward snorted in agreement and looked up. Bella was indicating through the window that she was going in to pay. He started to fish out his credit card, but she waved her travel stash envelope at him and turned away. Proud, stubborn girl.

"Listen," continued Jasper, "two things. One, we've arrived at Balch Road and the construction probably isn't as far along as you'd like. And two, Alice says if you feel spontaneously moved to go down on one knee, if you know what I mean, DON'T, because it won't be well received."

"Huh, what?" huffed Edward, instantly irritated. "I have no intention of asking for Bella's hand in anything but ideal circumstances. Tell Alice it will surpass the most romantic scenario she can conceive in her head. How far along IS construction?"

"Well they've dug the hole for the pool. Unfortunately your bedroom is wide open to the elements at the moment. Wait, Alice wants to speak to—"

"EDWARD."

"Yessss," he hissed. "I thought you weren't speaking to me." He was angry that Alice had seen him fetch the ring and had reviewed his plans before he had even begun to form them in his own head.

"This is not about a romantic setting, Edward. It's about _age_. It's too early. She's not ready."

"Bella IS ready," he shot back. He could see her through the store window now, buying roasted nuts and orange juice.

"The word 'teen' in her age should be a clue-"

"She's very mature," he interrupted. "You've always said so."

"She's only now recovering from your rather _surprising_ history," Alice said pointedly.

Edward bit back a furious reply. That was totally unwarranted; Alice was just miffed that she hadn't known the Tanya story until forty years after the event. "I'll wait until Bella's nineteenth birthday," he declared.

"No. Bella had a disastrous eighteenth only a short year ago. Don't make her feel awful on her nineteenth too. She'll begin to hate her birthday, even more than she already does."

"Oh, thanks a lot." He scowled. "You're saying she'll look back on my proposal with... what, disappointment?"

"No, with guilt. She will TURN YOU DOWN. Quite forcefully, too."

It took a second for this statement to sink in, and it struck him like a blow to the heart. He stared at Bella through the minimart window. She was paying, smiling at the cashier.

"Edward? Still there?"

"No, she won't," he argued softly, after a beat or two. "I can be very persuasive."

"Not this time, brother. In _all_ possible scenarios, she is intractable."

"Speaking frankly, Alice, she _is ready to go to bed with me_. The least I can offer her is the respect of a proper engagement."

"Edward, how can you be so stupidly, blindly_ Edwardian_? Bella doesn't associate the two. A modern woman doesn't necessarily connect making love with being married-"

"Oh, shut uuuup." He hit the 'end call' button and tossed the phone onto the dashboard, with a curse on his lips.

Bella opened the passenger door and climbed in. "Okay, I've got enough snacks to last me through the evening."

"Good," he said woodenly, trying to keep an impassive face.

"So, we can go ahead and, um, find a hotel if you like." She blushed and fiddled with the hem of her skirt, exposing her knee again.

_Oh Bella, Bella_. Edward looked away. He felt the cruel sting of his disappointment and knew he would have trouble hiding it. It wasn't exactly fair to be upset with Bella for rejecting his proposal of marriage, particularly as he hadn't even asked her yet.

"No, I think we'd better press on," he said obstinately. "We'll stop late tonight if you can manage it. I'd like to hit New England by tomorrow." She didn't answer; the skirt went down again. He didn't have to look at her face to guess her bemusement.

"Edward," she said slowly. "What is it?"

"Alice's assumptions," he said, cryptically. He picked up Bella's hand and laid it fiercely against his cheek. She winced but did not tell him he was hurting her. A horn honked; a middle aged businessman in an Audi sat in front of them, waiting for the pumps.

_Is that a pair of _kids_ in an Aston Martin? Jee-zus. How wrong is that? _

He tapped his horn again, words of envy and irritation coursing through his head.

_...couldn't possibly appreciate such a machine; what an irresponsible indulgence; they're practically babies; no teen is ready for such splendour ..._

Edward put the car in reverse and paused, fixing a vampiric stare at the man across their respective windshields. "We are teens, sir," he muttered in the man's direction, "and we are ready for splendor." He kissed Bella's hand, in a silent promise of betrothal; a promise to himself, to her, and to all the well-meaning, interfering Charlies and Alices of the world.

**8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8***

**12 Balch Road, Hanover, New Hampshire. August 30****th****.**

"Shit," sighed Edward. No pool. Unfinished bedroom. How long would he have to wait before he could safely make love to Bella?

He stood in the front yard, in the midst of muddy backhoe tracks and piles of building materials, through which the long, unmown grass grew.

Bella staggered out of the car, rubbing her eyes. "We're here? We're here. Oh!" She clapped her hands together at the sight of the white clapboard saltbox house. "It's even better than the pictures, Edward. It's so _New England_! It's...it's..."

"...absolutely _darling_," finished Alice, rushing out the door. In an instant, Alice was at the curb, enveloping Bella in an affectionate hug.

"Where are the builders today?" demanded Edward.

"_Hello _to you too, brother. They're waiting on a delivery of solar panels. Oh Bella, come inside!"

"Solar panels?" he persisted.

"This will be a sustainably-heated pool, remember?"

"Um. Pool?" said Bella dazedly. "In New Hampshire?"

Completely distracted, Edward did not anticipate it coming. _Him_ coming.

Jasper flew out of the shrubbery like a Confederate cannonball and bowled Edward over and over, out into the street. Bella shrieked with surprise; Alice gave a satisfied little harrumph.

Jasper paused, with Edward pinned beneath him on the tarmac road, to ask: "Are any of the neighbors witness to this?"

Edward rapidly scanned their minds –the few that were home on a Thursday lunchtime. "Yes," he lied, and taking advantage of Jasper's hesitation, Edward flipped Jasper over and they tumbled back onto the lawn.

"STOP!" cried Bella, horrified. They moved in a blur; if it weren't for their hair colour, Bella would not be able to distinguish Edward from Jasper.

She had heard the Cullen brothers joke about their spontaneous, destructive wrestling matches, but she had certainly never witnessed one until now. "They'll hurt each other," she appealed to Alice.

"Psshaw," said Alice dismissively. "Serves him right, making up Maria stories. Edward's hand will grow back, and anyway, COME IN and see the house. You LOVE it." She tugged at Bella's elbow, adding, "They both need a good hunt. Give them a few hours to fight and eat, okay?"

"Grow. Back?" said Bella weakly, watching the two tangled blurs disappear into the woods behind the house. "Edward's fingers better be _exactly_ the same," she muttered.

Alice widened her eyes innocently. "Why's that, Bella?"

"You know, because of his um, _piano playing_," Bella replied, the blood rushing to her face.

Then they both erupted in giggles, and Alice pulled Bella through the door and the already-furnished front room toward the kitchen. _I want to look at everything_ thought Bella, but Alice was already gushing at her.

"Oh Bella, we SO need to talk. You are brilliant, to think of that paintball glove and I must have one made for you that's leather, because cheap polyester is, well, gross, and _thank God_ you read Tanya's texts, it's good to see you showing some balls, and I'm so excited about your new college friends, and we bought you a new Volvo –"

"WHAT? New Volvo? Wait. Stop." Bella put her hand over her eyes. "Alice. I've slept sitting up all night. Restlessly, I might add, because Edward must have been going a hundred jillion miles an hour. I need a shower and a major cup of caffeine. THEN we can talk."

"Oh, all _right._" Alice sighed. She took Bella's shoulders and pointed her in the direction of the stairs. "Use my bedroom, there's shampoo and stuff in the shower. I'll bring up your suitcase in a sec. Want some breakfast? Lunch? We have _so_ stocked this kitchen."

Bella stopped on the third stair. "_Your_ bedroom?"

"Oh God, don't worry, Jasper and I aren't going to _live_ in Hanover, sweetie. This is house is yours and Edward's. I mean, I know you have a dorm room and all, but still." Bella turned to witness Alice's high beam smile, and Bella could only shake her groggy head and smile back.

"Oh, Alice, I've missed you. And don't call me sweetie."

8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*

An hour later, Bella was clean, fed and boosted by a strong dose of caffeine from the shiny, virginal espresso machine in the kitchen. They sat chatting amicably on the long Chippendale sofa while Alice took precise measurements of Bella's wrist, fingers and palm span with a narrow dressmaker's tape. Bella found it weird that Alice didn't need to write the numbers down.

"Um, Edward is going to be mortified that you know about the paintball glove."

"I only saw you buying it, Bella," Alice said crisply, "not using it. At first, I couldn't figure out WHAT it was for." Alice's shapely brows contracted. "I'm not actually sure you need one, but if it will make Edward less inhibited, then let's go for it."

Bella looked away, her face heating up again. "You'll ask for thin leather, right? Really soft? No fingertips."

Alice was clearly straining to keep the glee from her voice: "Yes, but it has to have padding."

"Hey," said Bella suddenly, eager to change the subject. "I want to ask you about –"

"Shakespeare," finished Alice, nodding. "Yes, I saw that you would."

"What?" said Bella irritably, pulling her hand away. "No, I wanted to ask you about Tanya." Then she remembered that Alice already knew where the conversation would go. "_Fine_," said Bella, giving up control. "What's up with all the Shakespearean quotes?"

"Obnoxious, isn't it?" replied Alice. "They can both be so pretentious sometimes. Edward did his thesis on Shakespeare's histories, remember."

"Um, right?" Bella hedged. God, how much did she not know about him? Would she ever know it all?

"Henry the Fifth and the Sixth and...oh, other kings too." Alice waved her hand. "That horrible one was in there."

"Richard the third," said Bella, feeling like she needed to prove she knew _something._

"That's the one. You'd think Tanya had slept with the Bard, the way she goes on about it." Alice rolled her eyes dramatically.

Bella started. "Tanya_ knew_ William Shakespeare?"

"Friend of a friend of Shakespeare. Friend of a _meal,_ actually. Tanya went to one play in 1597, after which she ate her date. She thinks it makes her a Shakespearean authority. She and Edward would go at it for hours in the eighties, quoting back and forth. Emmett would mimic them sometimes, substituting 'fuckery' for every other noun , if you'll excuse my language," she laughed her tinkling laugh. "'The course of true fuckery never did run smooth', etc. It was the only thing that made it bearable."

Bella shifted on the sofa. "But," she began unhappily. "But you said Edward avoided her. I was IM'ing you when I was in Florida. _He avoids her generally_, you said."

"Well, yes, when she's after his tail." Alice shrugged her thin shoulders. "Tanya is like Jekyll and Hyde. When Tanya has a lover, she is...which one was the good one?"

"Dr. Jekyll."

"Okay, when Tanya was with Andy, to pick an example, from 1974 until 1989, she was a total Dr. Jekyll. Pleasant and happy and mostly benign. Edward got along well with Andy, who was a Political Science prof at Vancouver."

"What are you saying...that they were friends? The three of them?"

Bella suddenly pictured Edward and Tanya and this Andy person, sitting around in flared pants and polyester knit turtlenecks, debating Lyndon Baines Johnson's political agenda in iambic pentameter, while Esme supplied Andy with Parmesan Twists and a smile.

"I'm afraid so. Tanya and Edward must have buried the secret of their one failed date and moved on." Alice's lip curled, still clearly annoyed she was deprived of that knowledge. "When Tanya is unattached, she plagues Edward with all sorts of wanton thoughts and taunts. When she is in love, they get along fairly well. It's weird, I know, but vampires never do anything halfway, do they?"

"I suppose." Bella stood up and put her fists to her temples. Just when she had come to grips with the blow-job-that-wasn't, there was something new and ugly to process. "Tanya has tainted my whole trip out here with Edward," she said fiercely. "And now _Ms. Hyde_ threatens me from the other side of the country."

"What?" asked Alice, her face clouding. "When did she threaten you?"

"Didn't you see those texts Tanya sent Edward?"

"I did, but only because you looked at them." Alice nodded. "Shakespeare again. The 'capital crime' is our plan to turn you. Tanya is hugely pissed off about that, I'm afraid."

"Good." Bella cast a grim smile back at Alice. "If Tanya had hoped I was just going to get old and get dumped, she has another thing coming."

Alice blinked. "Tanya knows better than that."

Bella walked to the double-hung window and ran her finger along the aging, speckled brass hardware. "Have you seen, by any chance, what she is planning?" Bella both wanted to know and was afraid to know.

"Tanya's fairly spontaneous, and therefore difficult to predict. Her future has several thousand possibilities at the moment." Alice squeezed her eyes shut, as if she were attempting a 'vision'. "One thing is certain: Tanya is upset with the whole family for agreeing to change you. She swam to Russia on Wednesday."

"_Swam_ to Russia?" Bella had to laugh at the absurdity of this statement. But it was the opposite direction from New Hampshire and this was good news.

"Bella," Alice said slowly. "Tanya isn't really threatening you."

"But...the second text," Bella insisted, frustrated that Alice was dismissing Tanya as easily as Edward had. "The line about the adder, and walking wary?"

"No." Alice shook her head. "Read it again, Bella. The adder is in the daylight."

Bella turned from the window abruptly. "What are you saying exactly?"

"Look it up." Alice pointed to Jasper's open laptop, which sat on the kitchen table. "You can google it."

Bella frowned, moved to the kitchen and bent over Jasper's laptop. She googled 'adder' 'daylight' and 'Shakespeare quotes'.

_It is the bright day that brings forth the adder;  
And that craves wary walking_

"The warning is for Edward," said Alice gently. "_You_ are the adder."

**8*8*8*8*8*8*8***

So the next chapter is well underway. Thanks for reading and a special thank you to all of you who take the time to review. If I don't respond, it is because I am madly madly busy that day. Other days, I'll write responses to ten reviews in a row. It is random, and I apologize to all of you who don't get a response...I'll keep trying!


	18. Chapter 18: Control

Thanks to Kristi and Angel ,aka Antebellum, for unbelievably fast turnaround. I continued to fiddle with it afterwards, so any errors are mine, not theirs.

**Chapter 18: Control**

"The warning is for Edward," said Alice gently. "_You_ are the adder."

But before Alice could explain further, the boys appeared in the rear doorway, dishevelled and golden-eyed. Bella gave Alice a pointed look – _we'll continue this later –_and followed Edward into the unfinished ground floor bedroom just as he peeled off his wrinkled and woodland-stained t-shirt.

The dusty room had a strange red fabric tacked up on all the surfaces of the walls. _Red?_ This was an unlikely choice for Esme. The last wall was all windows, or would be eventually. For now a large transparent sheet kept the new interior closed off from the elements. Bella could just make out a long rectangular hole, just beyond the sheet. Oh yeah. A swimming pool.

She turned her focus to the shirtless vampire in front of her. "Your hands," she said anxiously. "Show me your hands."

"All intact," he said quietly, wiggling his fingers for her. "Can you tell which one is new?"

Bella touched both palms and fingers, feeling queasy at the thought of Edward's hand being ripped off his arm. "No," she admitted. "Didn't it _hurt_?"

"Like hell. But I gave as good as I got." There was no humor in his voice; Bella look up sharply.

"Are you and Jasper good again?"

"Yeahhh," he said, and there was an unspoken, almost apologetic _but..._hanging there. He winced and held onto her hands. "I need to talk to you. About...English Literature."

"English. Literature. Okay."

"EDWARD." Alice stood in the doorway.

"WHAT," he said savagely, turning to his sister.

She threw him a white linen button-down and then crossed her arms over her chest.

"The Euro is in the crapper. And steel is teetering on the edge of 2K per ton. WHAT were you thinking?"

**8*8*8*8*8*8*8***

Bella ate her pasta and watched Jasper work, while half-listening to Edward and Alice's lively debate. Jasper moved between his laptop and some official looking documents he had laid on the kitchen table. She noticed he never passed by her directly, but went the long way around the kitchen table when he needed to get to the kitchen drawer for a pen or a stapler. Jasper's mood was easy, though; he hummed a vaguely familiar country western tune.

In the adjacent room, Alice and Edward stood around the dining table, their voices humming and buzzing at vampire speed. Apparently a week without a review of the Cullen financial portfolio was a long time, and Alice insisted on bringing Edward up to date "so that proactive decisions could be made". They had the Wall Street Journal, the New York Times and an unidentifiable Far Eastern newspaper open on the table, as well as both of their Macbooks. Bella tried to glean a word every now and then: 'futures', 'Footsie 100' and 'triangular merger' were all she had caught so far. She soon lost interest.

A Dartmouth campus map and her textbook list sat on the table, but she resisted their lure. Bella wanted to wait and go through them with Edward.

"Why do they care?" she asked Jasper with a touch of impatience. "Don't you guys have enough money already?"

"It's their form of wrestling," he replied, chuckling. "Alice likes to test the validity of her visions against whatever information makes it into the financial press. Edward, in the meantime, purposefully keeps her from making so much money that the SEC notices the accuracy of her decisions."

"Edward tries to make... badinvestments?"

"Well, _middling_ investments. Truly bad investments might look like a smokescreen. It's not as easy as it sounds." Jasper picked up a crisp document and flicked his finger along the edge, nicking it. "It's a complex hobby. Edward likes the math, and it keeps Alice out of the boutiques." Then he took the paper and put the edge of it between his teeth.

"What in the world are you doing?" Bella laughed. "Is that... is that a birth certificate?"

"Yes'm," he grinned. "Edward's twenty-one all of a sudden. Edward Masen is, anyway. Brand spanking new, so I'm _aging_ it. Roughing it up a bit."

"Oh. It's a forgery." She frowned. "Wait, twenty one?"

"He also just graduated with a B.S. from University of Chicago." Jasper held up an authentic looking diploma.

"Um..._why_?"

"Well, I broke through this morning, did he tell you? Hacked in and created a transcript. PT school requires a B.S."

Bella glanced at Edward, who was shaking his head at Alice and scanning numbers right out of the Wall Street Journal, into a hand-held red-lit device that plugged into his computer.

"PT school?" she repeated. "What is that?"

Jasper's eyes widened. "Ah. _Shoot_. I see he hasn't discussed this possibility with you yet. Edward's been accepted into the Physical Therapy school here at Dartmouth, as a late entry."

"No." Bella put her fork down. "He's majoring in English Lit, with me."

"Well, now y'all have a choice of majors." He held up his hands at Bella's expression. "Don't be hard on him, Bella. He didn't think I'd hack through, until this morning. He's tryin' to do right by you, even if it goes against his usual nature."

_Tryin' to do right by you._ That was not always a good sign. "What do you mean?"

Jasper sat down, clasping his hands together. "Those two," he jerked his head toward the dining room, "love you. They love you s_o much_ that they would wrap you in a cocoon if they could, so that you never felt pain or loss or failure ...or even disappointment. You're the only thing they fight about, you know. You and hedge funds."

"Hm," she said, not really wanting to see it that way. "And?"

"And a little adversity begets maturity. He was your enabler, if you will. Or would have been."

Bella bristled. 'Enabler' was a term for those who enabled dysfunctional addicts, not Ivy-League challenged freshmen.

"I am not a seer," Jasper tapped the side of his head, "but I can make some predictions about Edward. Put him in your class, and he will critique your essays. He will relate his historical and educated perspective on every author or poet you read, and he will scan the professor's mind for any preconceived opinions you could play into. He'll make it as smooth and risk-free as possible for you, because he can't help himself."

Jasper was probably hitting the mark a little too closely; Bella squirmed. "I'm still going to do the work myself. If I get a C," she shuddered at the idea, "then it will be my own."

"Think so?" responded Jasper, arching one eyebrow. "Okay, here's another one of my predictions." He rubbed his chin, and Bella noticed for the first time ever that Jasper had a faint (and likely permanent) five-o'clock shadow. "Edward will whisk you away from classmates gathered on the open sunny Quadrangles, just so he could be next to you in the shade."

"No." This challenge she could defend. "I would _choose_ to sit with him in the shade. My choice."

"And therefore miss out," Jasper finished for her.

"On WHAT, exactly?" Bella lowered her chin in warning. She suspected what was coming.

"Well," Jasper answered, holding up a finger to ask for her patience, "this morning, right after PT school officially accepted him, Alice had a vision."

"Yes, go on," Bella said, almost wearily.

"You suddenly had friends. A great group of literature-loving girlfriends. One of whom drinks a lot, and that's why we're getting you a Volvo SUV seven-seater. You're usually the designated driver now."

"Wait—stop," said Bella, not ready to fight about a gift of a Volvo quite yet. "You're saying I won't make friends if Edward is in my classes?"

"Yep."

"Edward wouldn't prevent me from having friends, no way," she exclaimed, offended on his behalf. "You know he's not like that!"

"Wellll," Jasper drawled. "Not intentionally, no."

"Damn it," she spluttered, suddenly furious with Jasper. Jasper the friendly dismemberer, the hacker, the forger, the bearer of unpleasant surprises. "You guys are trying to orchestrate MY future without my consent. What if I don't want to make friends?"

"Don't you?" The corner of his mouth twitched, and he glanced toward the dining room, where discussion continued unabated.

"Besides," she said, her voice low, "Edward originally chose English Lit because he likes the subject, not so _he can enable my life_. That would be... _ridiculous_."

"Mmm," said Jasper evenly, his chin resting on his fist. "Ridiculous."

She vividly recalled summer discussions around the kitchen table, where she and Edward perused the Dartmouth course catalogue, while Charlie huffed occasionally in the background.

Bella wanted nothing more than to lie around with Edward reading and discussing 19th century novels. It would be like one of those book clubs, but with the best looking, smartest, sexiest club member ever. They would alternately make love and talk and read; she would lounge across his bare chest with a novel in one hand while absently sorting through the tangles in her sex-mussed hair with the other. He would be naked under the sheets while he read aloud the dialogue of Mr. Rochester or Angel Clare in his chocolate-coated voice. Occasionally they would have to write an essay or attend those other pesky classes like American government. She would put in an appearance at her dorm room whenever she had her period. Wasn't it what Edward wanted too?

"It's not ridiculous," she blurted, in an about-face of reasoning. "We want to be together! "

Jasper's voice was soothing, serious. "Well, I'm afraid I agree with Charlie. If Edward doesn't give you some breathin' room with both your peers and your classes, you're not going have the full college experience. You need to develop your own opinions, not just absorb Edward's somewhat narrow views."

"Charlie?" Bella stood abruptly. "_Charlie._ Ah-HAH. This evil plan was concocted on THE GODDAMNED FISHING TRIP, wasn't it?"

And suddenly Edward was beside her, _growling_ at Jasper: "What the hell, Jaz?" and Jasper rose to his feet. Alice seemed to appear as a wedge between them, one hand on each of their forearms.

Edward looked down at the table of documents, over at Jasper and back to Bella, who was swaying under the struggle of Jasper's emotive calm and her own furious, wounded pride.

"Holy shit," he said to Jasper. "I haven't even discussed this with Bella yet."

She grabbed the table to keep from falling over. "A new SUV Volvo? A new major? No warning?" she tried to shriek, though it came out like a muted whine. "You Cullens are too much sometimes. _Too much_. Where the fuck is the Volvo?"

The three vampires stared at Bella, their mouths slightly open.

"It's on order?" said Alice, as if it were a question. "We wanted homing and GPS?"

"No, no, the OLD Volvo. Edward's little silver one. The ONE I LOVE."

"In the garage," Jasper answered her. "Keys by the door."

Edward made a noise of protest, but Jasper pointed at the kitchen door, where a row of keys sat on brass hooks. The holder looked remarkably identical to the one in the Cullen house.

Bella walked over and picked all the keys off the rack, one by one, and threw them into the nearest kitchen drawer. "I prefer to keep keys IN...A...DRAWER," she said furiously, tossing each one in. Then she wrenched the key rack off the wall and threw that in for good measure. She waved a hand at the kitchen cabinets. "And let **me** unpack the kitchen next time, since I am the one WHO EATS FOOD." She picked up the old Volvo key, which she recognized immediately.

"I'm going to campus, to go check out my dorm room," she announced, glaring at them, each one at a time. "Maybe I'll go out with my new roommate too. _Because I fucking choose to_." She grabbed the campus map, turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her.

They continued to stand stock still, listening while Bella found the barn behind the house. They could hear her struggling to push aside the heavy door. It screeched on the rusty track.

"I've never heard her say 'fuck' before," whispered Alice.

"Quiet," said Edward, listening.

Another screech or two, then the familiar sound of car door and Volvo engineturning over and softly chugging down the driveway. Everyone sighed at once.

"WELL?" Edward turned to Alice, his expression incredulous.

"I did NOT see that one coming," she apologized. Then her face broke into a smile. "She's got spunk, Edward. More and more every day."

"Mm-huh," agreed Jasper, rocking on his heels.

"Wipe that fucking grin off your face, Jasper Whitlock, you conniving troublemaker," muttered Edward. He raked his hand through his hair. "You two are the worst support a brother could have."

Alice laughed outright, and put her arm around Edward's waist in a half-hug. "Don't thank me for unpacking the entire house, then."

"And drivin' all your crap out here," added Jasper.

"I won't." Edward roughed up Alice's spiky hair and gave Jasper a short shove, all in the space of a half-second. "Is she going to be okay?"

Alice stared into nothing for a moment, and Edward saw, in Alice's mind, his shy, lovely Bella sitting on a twin bed in a dated dormitory, smiling and nodding to a roommate's chatter.

Alice turned to Edward suddenly. "And you are NOT to go stalking her."

"What," said Edward holding out his palms innocently.

"I saw you just now. Fifty plus chance you were going to follow and listen outside the building."

"Was not," he said crossly.

"Well, not _now_," she smiled, satisfied.

"Bella won't be long," said Jasper, getting off the floor.

"What do _you_ know?" grumbled Edward, helping him up.

"That she loves you. That she is young," said Jasper. "And that y'all need time alone. So we'll skedaddle now, I think."

**8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8***

Driving with one hand and recklessly thumb-dialling with the other, Bella stabbed out the familiar number.

"Swan Residence."

"Oh. _Jake_?"

"BELLS! Wow, it's you. Where are you?"

"Dartmouth campus. Looking for my dormitory. What are you doing at my house?"

"You sound pissed off. We're just having a fish fry. End of the summer R-fest with Charlie and Dad and Sue Clearwater."

"I _am_ pissed off."

"Holy shit, reeeeally." Jake dropped his voice to a low, gravelly octave. "What has he done? Want me to come out there and get you?"

"Oh, for God's sake, stop." She would not reveal her anger at Edward to Jacob, no way. "No, I am pissed off at Charlie."

"What for?"

"For interfering, that's what. For getting Edward to change his major."

"Ohhh, _that_. Pfft."

"You knew?"

"I heard Charlie telling Sue this afternoon. He gets all worried and mushy about you when he's muntered. Old man Edward agreed, did he? Huh, I didn't think he'd keep his promise."

"Oh? And what did he promise to Charlie?"

"To stop dominating your ass? To stop controlling you? How would I know, I wasn't there." Jake said testily. "Ask Deadward yourself."

_He doesn't control me. Nor will he enable me. I swear it. _

"Hey, are you not speaking to him or something?" Jacob asked, painfully earnest. "Want me to come out there and get you? 'Cause I will."

"_No_, Jacob." Bella sighed, softening. He was ever persistent, her lupine friend. "So. Everything good with you?"

"Yeah, guess so. It's hard to hate on Dr. Perfect and Mrs. Smiley. She's, like, ALWAYS smiling. Even when standing in the frozen food aisle, pretending to decide between peas or succotash. So I don't transform as much."

"Well, you'll have more jean shorts to work with then," said Bella dryly.

"Oh _hooray_."

She laughed. "I miss you Jacob."

"Yeah right." There was a beat or two of silence, as she remembered she was supposed to be discouraging him.

"You know what," she said, "nevermind. I'll call Charlie when he's less...what's the word?"

"Muntered."

"_Muntered._ Go back to your fish."

"'kay." He sounded disappointed. "Call me if you need me, yeah? Anytime."

**8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8***

Bella returned just past 10 p.m. to a darkened house.

Where was everybody? Oh God, surely not out looking for her. The rear door was unlocked, and Bella entered cautiously. The sounds of an old jazz recording filled the house, a low resonating saxophone practically rattling the windows.

Bella turned on the kitchen light. Her pasta dishes had been washed and put away, the counters wiped clean. The offending forged documents were gone, a blue-dotted ceramic bowl of fruit in their place.

Feeling a bit like an intruder, she removed her sneakers and padded slowly through the house, peering into unoccupied, moonlit rooms. The 1950's jazz floated in and out of every room, around beautifully arranged furniture, artfully chosen and placed, all in darkened grey silhouette, evoking a dream-like quality. Bella imagined wandering like this forever, through endless rooms that she couldn't quite see, searching for Edward.

She was supposed to live here, in a house she didn't know, with furniture she didn't choose, for which she didn't pay. Was this adventure or control? Privilege or obligation?

Her new roommate Lilah had been nice enough, though Bella suspected a determined feminist under the new, nervous chatter ; the dorm room had a scruffy charm that Bella could make her own. And yet... she wanted to spend every waking moment with Edward. _He_ was her destined adventure, surely. If she refused his choices, did that make her a betraying 'adder'? The short-term details (major, cars, furniture, friends, _pride_) shouldn't matter if she were to eventually become a vampire...or should they?

"Edward," she whispered into the haunting, melancholy music.

"I'm here."

"OH!" she shrieked, dropping her shoes. She found the light switch and flipped it on. Edward was standing three feet away, near a half-filled bookshelf, with a CD in his hands. She realized he had been there all along, a frozen and beautiful silhouette like the furniture. He grabbed a remote control from the shelf and lowered the volume of the music.

"_Jeez," _she cried. "Why are you here in the pitch dark?"

He shrugged. "Esme is usually the one to go around turning on lights when you visit." He looked at her warily, like she might combust into flames or sprout a second head.

"Oh," said Bella. "Okay." She had forgotten how well he could see in the dark. She gestured stiffly toward the kitchen. "You didn't have to clean up my dinner mess."

"I didn't mind," he said, his voice soft and low.

Bella looked down, unable to bear the intensity of his eyes. She nudged her shoe with her toe. "Where's Alice?"

"They set off for New York, about an hour ago."

"Damn. I need to apologize to her...the unpacking comment," she trailed off. What she really needed to ask was _why am I the adder?_

He nodded, making no judgement. She ran her toe again along the wide-plank floor, wanting to step forward and reconcile, but she couldn't decide whether to apologize or admonish, whether to thank him for his selfless plans or scold him for his reticence.

He, too, wanted to apologize, but his pride held his tongue. Today's revelations - one, that Bella would reject his proposal, and two, that he was an enabling, friend-denying jerk - still stung painfully. He worried the second revelation might be a subconscious cause of the first. Though Charlie and Jacob had never successfully swayed Bella's opinion against him, Alice's visions were free from prejudice. Edward stood there, not knowing how to voice his worries, not knowing which choice of major would offend her and which would cause offense against her. He wanted to ask about her new roommate, but was afraid she would suddenly announce she was going to spend her first night in Hanover at the dorm.

So neither spoke. He turned slowly and went back to sorting and shelving CDs.

"I'm gonna go try out that old clawfoot bathtub," she said abruptly, turning toward the stairs.

"Good idea," he called behind her.

Upstairs, Bella took a moment to gather her toiletries from her suitcase. She hesitated, her eye catching a silky fabric in the bottom of the case. Before she could change her mind, she crumpled the Target-bought nightgown into her hand and entered the bathroom. Her heart melted a little; Edward was already there, filling the tub and getting out towels. He started pulling tealight candles out of a box and placing them around the room. Yes, Esme and Alice had thought of everything.

One by one, he lit them. "Is the music okay?" he asked, pointing at a tiny speaker, mounted in the corner of the room.

"Perfect," she said, a little lump coming to her throat. It was impossible to resist such thoughtfulness. "Are you going to join me?" she teased.

His eyes widened; he almost smiled. "Not enough room in that old tub. But thank you anyway." He adjusted the dimmer switch and the room took on a soft glow.

"See you in bed?" she asked, raising her shoulders in a question.

"Yeah. In bed." He gave her his lopsided smile, and they locked eyes – _all-will-be-well-and-I-love-you _- before he stepped out of the room.

**8*8*8*8*8*8*8***

Bella emerged in a terrycloth robe and a cloud of strawberry bath fragrance. "Hey."

"Hey." Edward sat against a pillow, his feet crossed at the ankles - a pose of human-relaxing-on-bed. He put his nose a little deeper into Bella's new Kingsolver paperback while Bella organized her suitcase, but he wasn't taking in a word.

_Talk_, he told himself. Speak. Use that articulate vampire brain and say the right thing.

Just _what_ was the right thing?

Love and adoration he could communicate in spades now. Confession of past transgressions? Yeah, he had done that one too (damn you, Tanya). Disagreements with males were handled with fists, like the fight he'd had with Jasper today. This issue was more subtle, more delicate, involving a stubborn, not-quite-mature girl .

Funny, how his intentions had all seemed so right when he sat in a fishing boat with Charlie. The man's thoughts had never been so clear, so passionate. Charlie's years in public service, his dogged, determined personality and even his divorce had produced a wise and sensible man. And how he loved Bella! Charlie had been an evangelist that day and eventually Edward had joined the congregation and even the choir. Edward would do whatever was best for Bella, _YES SIR_, of course he would. Neither man had thought to consult her, which was ironic, since their goal was a strong and independent woman.

Bella combed her hair, watching him. "Don't tell me any spoilers," she said, conversationally, indicating the novel with a nod of her head.

"Promise," he said, matching her tone. He touched the bed beside him in a wordless invitation.

She settled on the iron bed, tucking her feet beneath her to the side. He glanced at her over the top of the book. Her skin was all pink and heated from the bath, and little curls were trying to escape from the clip in her hair. She looked delectable. Right now he wanted nothing more than to kiss her and marry her and tell her he'd major in whatever she wanted.

"This is a nice quilt," she observed, touching the fine stitching.

"Yes." He put the book down on his chest. "But if you want something different for our new bedroom, you can choose something else." He said this all a little too fast, but she had managed to get it. "You do have _choices_," he finished.

"About bedspreads?" she said wryly. "Or kitchen shelves? Plates above and pots and pans below?"

He scanned her face to see if she was being sarcastic. "And other things."

"Sometimes it feels like I have none," she said softly, her eyes dropping back to the quilt, "especially when Alice sees what's going to happen to me."

He nodded empathetically. "Or when others tell you _what you're like_. And you feel fiercely compelled to change your fate, to prove them wrong?"

"Yes, exactly!" She touched her hand to his forearm. After a moment she ran her index finger up and down, along the tendons of his left arm. This was lovely; he stayed perfectly still.

"Edward." She pressed her lips together in a bit of a grimace. "May I ask you something?"

"You already are," he chanced, smirking a little. Still he didn't move.

She narrowed her eyes at him. She would unwrap herself soon, and _then we'll see how snarky you are, boy_. "What do you _really _want to major in? I mean, really really."

He smiled, taken aback. "I want to major in Isabella Marie Swan," he answered honestly.

"Be serious," she implored.

How could he explain? A vampire's love bordered on obsessive. It was the kind of intensity that could eventually drive a human away, he supposed. He contemplated a more conventional, but equally honest, answer.

"I thought Physical Therapy might teach me to handle humans more safely. To handle _you_ more safely. I didn't actually think I'd get accepted at the eleventh hour. And I didn't want to get Charlie in trouble—"

"So you didn't mention it," she interrupted brusquely, "until the eleventh hour."

"Yes, and I apologize. But Bella... I'll do what you want. Come Monday morning, I can be Edward Masen attending PT school or Edward Cullen, freshman English Lit major. It's your decision."

"No, _no_." She clutched his arm. "You don't get it. What do YOU want? What about...what about music?"

He smiled ruefully and shook his head. "A music degree has a performance requirement, even if I major in composition. I'm too good; the Volturi wouldn't want me garnering attention."

She almost snorted at his total lack of modesty. "Okay, how about Medicine again? There must be new advancements since your last degree."

"Bella, no one takes you seriously when you look twenty. I've tried before. Patients pass over my advice for an older doctor – even when he's a drunk or an incompetent." There was an edge of bitterness to his voice. Bella decided not to pursue that one.

"_History_," she persisted.

"I appreciate your offer," he said patiently, "but I've done undergrad, I've done post-grad, I've done Medical school. Multiple times in various subjects. And I will again. This is your first and I want it to be wonderful for you. "

He looked away and laughed humorlessly. "I feel like I've _already_ screwed it up. Apparently I'm a control freak who won't let you have friends." His lower lip came out in a definite pout. "It's no wonder you -" He stopped. _No wonder you won't marry me._

She scooted up to him and put her chin on his shoulder. Her blood scent mixed with the strawberry fragrance, a heady mixture. "You know, that's probably me doing that, not you. Let's see... should I sit with unfamiliar faces and try to prove my Ivy-league worth with clever small talk? Or join the gorgeous man who loves me for who I am? Sounds like a no-brainer." She touched her finger to the cold curl of his ear. "I kind of like your company."

He didn't answer; but he unclenched his jaw a little.

"Here's a novel idea," she ventured.

"Oh?"

"We do what we want to. Take destiny into our own hands," she said with a touch of mock drama. "Forget my Dad's demands and Jasper's opinion and whatever Alice saw. Choose your major, whatever _you _want to do, damn it. I'm doing English Lit, and I have no intention of taking advantage of your brain to do it. I am gonna discover these supposed friends then I'LL decide if I want to hang out with them or not."

Edward was silent, weighing his response. Their future together, her safety, her happiness, and his own stubborn desires all jockeyed for favor in his mind.

She sat back and wiggled out of her robe, tossed it onto the floor, and scooted back up to his shoulder. Her breast brushed his arm; he remained perfectly still. "Maybe we'll gain friends as a couple," she said.

"Humans don't like to be friends with me." This wasn't quite true, but he was not ready to be coaxed out of his sulk.

"I'll convince them otherwise," she said bravely, and he couldn't help but smile. _But you're a shy and delicate butterfly_, he wanted to answer.

He turned to look at her at last. There was a fiery determination in her eyes; he felt ridiculously proud of her. "I have obviously underestimated you. No parental directives can withstand your will, nor the advice of aged, meddling vampires-"

"Nor tricky blonde vampires..."

He raised an eyebrow. "Hear, hear. Fate and its woven threads of providence have no chance! You will simply rip through them. No, stomp through them."

"Damn straight."

He pulled back and looked down, drawing breath between his teeth. "Uh, where are your flannel pajamas?"

Her cheeks immediately tinted pink, but she kept her chin up. "I've decided to wear this tonight."

"A good decision," he said, blinking. "What you said earlier, I mean. We'll direct our own destiny..." His words faded as stared openly at the way the thin floral fabric ghosted over her curves, stretched snugly in some places and floating softly in others. It was clearly inexpensive polyester; she must have bought it herself. _You belong in silk,_ he almost said, then realized how snobbish that would sound. He dragged his eyes back to her face. He didn't want to belittle the topic at hand. "So...which major... was it?"

She took his hand and played with his fingers for a moment before placing them on the juncture of her thigh and hip. His thumb grazed her hipbone. There was only the finest cord indicating the presence of underwear. Edward shuddered and his eyes fell down again to her breasts. The gown had a criss-cross bodice, that was already open a bit, so that her skin peeked through in a vertical window.

"Where is your mouthguard?" she asked, pulling the book off his chest.

"On the nightstand," he whispered, following every shift of her body as she leaned over him to get it. He closed his eyes, trying to mentally subdue his growing erection.

The previous night, while he had driven across upstate New York like a Formula One driver, he had prepared a little speech in his head. A speech in which he would tell her that they needed to slow down in the bedroom, that it was all moving too fast for two people who weren't even respectably and formally committed to one another.

Now a slinky fifteen dollar nightgown threatened his resolve.

"What else did you agree with Charlie?" she asked carefully, plucking the blue rubber out of its case.

"To respect your decisions," Edward murmured, opening his eyes again.

"Hm," she said. "I've decided you should take off your jeans."

He leaned back and laughed. "I don't think that's the kind of decision your father anticipated."

She handed him the mouthguards. "This gown has matching underwear," she said boldly. "Want to see?"

His eyebrows shot up and he made a gurgling noise while affixing his mouthguard, and she took the opportunity to hike up her gown and straddle him.

"Jesuth, Bella," he gasped. "Yeah, they match."

She dove and kissed him fiercely; his speech on virtue evaporated with the entrance of her tongue. They wrangled, the frustrations of the day released in the kiss. His mouth travelled down to the delicate skin of her décolleté. Nevermind propriety: he teased her nipples through the fabric and was rewarded with a squeak of 'oh, ohhh!', while her fingers tangled through his hair. He began working the lacing loose; one shoulder strap fell down and he cupped her breast, pushing it up and running his thumb along the top of the flesh. "Oh yeah," he sighed. "I've decided I like this nightgown."

"Let me touch you," she moaned. She tried to sit down on him but he held her hovering on her knees, immovable. "I'll get the glove," she offered.

"No," he rasped from between her breasts.

"You are not...the only one...in control...I want...I want..." she squirmed against the wide span of his iron hands. "I want to throw out all this furniture."

"Huh?" he said breathlessly, removing his mouth for a moment.

"Or give it away. I want authentic, eclectic _student_ furniture." She used the moment of distraction to sit down on him, right on his hard-on. He groaned and lifted her up again, this time wrapping his arm around her bottom to keep her immobile.

He stared up at her a moment. She licked her lips and lowered the other strap off her shoulder, and he felt another surge to his groin.

"Student furniture. Whatever you say." He grinned, fully aware she was manipulating him. "Except the sofa," he said sternly, running his free hand up her thigh, lifting the nightgown once again. "A used sofa reads like a historical catalogue of smells."

She struggled against the crook of his arm, the little fight for dominance amusing and arousing both of them. He wondered if she was going to nix the SUV next.

"I want to sit on you. Open your jeans," she panted.

"No. Tonight it's my turn to pleasure you." And I WILL marry you, he thought fiercely. Otherwise, I dishonor you now. He slipped a finger beneath the elastic of her underwear and she gave a little shriek. He began a slow, tortuous drag of cold digit against slippery heat. Bella groaned and let her head fall back, exposing her pale throat.

_Fuck._ Bloodlust surged out of nowhere; he snapped his eyes shut. Her hand rested on his shoulder; her wrist...so close to his mouth. Her pulse rang in his ears...he only had to turn his head...

"NO," he growled, and he removed his fingers for a moment, in order to grab her wrist and force her hand behind her back. Automatically, her other hand grabbed for his shoulder. He caught it and placed that one behind her too, his fingers encircling her small wrists. She was his prisoner, straddled above him and unable to move in the vice grip of his arm and hand behind her, his face against her breasts in front. She let out an ambiguous cry – of either protest or desire, he didn't know which.

The struggle no longer played out between Edward and Bella, but Edward and himself.

_Focus. _ Focus, focus. On anything but blood.

Bella's climax; yes, that was his goal. He narrowed the expansive landscape of his mind to that single destination. Time lost meaning; his lips and fingers worshipped her trembling body, held trussed in his arm. If she cried out '_not so fast'_ or '_God, yes'_ or even '_let me go'_, he would not have heard it. The monster would not be suppressed entirely.

It was the monster that seized the thin cord of her underwear and felt it give way. It was the barbarian that flipped her on her back and tugged at the crisscross lacing until the gown split open in one long tear. It was the lust-addled savage that put his mouth between her legs until she jerked and arched and cried out his name.

Where, oh where was the tender Edwardian fiancé now?

**8*8*8*8*8*8**

**Next chapter: blonde visitor number one. **

Thanks to all of you who take the time to review. Your encouragement and kind words thrill me every time.


	19. Chapter 19: Blonde Visit Number One

Thanks to Kristi and Angel for fabulous beta assistance. I continued to fiddle; errors are all mine. Thanks to you lovely reviewers out there! I live for your words, whether short and sweet or long or snarky!

Recap of previous chapter: At Dartmouth, Edward and Bella choose different majors and less co-dependence. Alice dismisses Tanya's texts as harmless and Bella dismisses the fancy furniture. The sight of Bella in lingerie drives Edward wild.

**Chapter 19: Blonde visit number one.**

Living with Edward Cullen had its surprises. The Cullen house in Forks, picture-perfect and clutter-free, must have been entirely the work of Esme. Bella was shocked to find out that Edward left a path of disturbance wherever he went, with cabinet doors left open, clothes discarded in a chair, and opened mail scattered across the countertop. Ironically, he was a fastidious cleaner – though he cleaned _around_ the clutter -and insisted on doing all of it himself.Bella sometimes awoke in the middle of the night to the smell of bleach wafting up from the kitchen or the sound of steam jetting out the iron. He even did windows.

His vampire behaviours were revealed in ways she had never noticed before. He would pick up the Wall Street Journal from the front walk and then stand just inside the doorway and read the thing cover to cover without ever needing to sit down. He strimmed the lawn – the shaded parts – in his bare feet and tinkered under the hood of the Vanquish in the pitch dark. He tried to cook for her, but the moment anything would start to crisp up nicely, he would say 'I smell carcinogens' and declare it done.

Never was Bella more aware of the presence, width, and movement of clouds; Edward could walk under one if it were going in the direction he wanted. Edward managed the sunnier New England climate with a Ducati motorcycle (yes, another vehicle that Bella hadn't known about). He could park up close to the shaded side of the Physical Therapy School before removing his helmet. A partly cloudy day could wreak havoc with his schedule. He would text Alice _'may I go to the library?_' and she would text back either a '_no_' or a time when he could safely leave the shade of a building or a tree.

Construction resumed. Edward's sweet and playful demeanor would disappear the moment the builders were in her presence. He became cool and curt, all vampiric stare and articulate demands. When Nick the foreman came into the old part of the house to ask a question, Edward would move to stand in front of Bella, or he would rest his hand possessively on the back of her neck while discussing pool pumps or light fixtures.

"Why don't you just piss on me?" she muttered on Thursday afternoon, after Nick had left the room. "Mark your property."

"Can't," said Edward, almost absently, returning his gaze to his textbook _Kinesiology and Biomechanics_. "But I'd give you a hickey if I could," he said, smirking at her sideways.

"I'll take the hickey of immortality," she suggested brightly, tilting her chin so that her neck was exposed.

His expression darkened. "Don't do that."

Bella huffed and sank back into the floor cushion with Edmund Spenser's _The Faerie Queen_. Her seduction goals weren't moving along as steadily as she'd like, and now her nineteenth birthday was only a week away. _V-day_, she called it in her head.

_May I please give you something for your birthday this time? _he asked almost daily.

_Your virginity,_ was the answer she wanted to give. "No," she always replied.

Edward had gone all sheepish and shy after his animalistic nightgown-ripping session. This meant he easily deferred to all her furniture selections at Goodwill and the Salvation Army, but became infuriatingly uncooperative when she tried to have her turn at touching him. His excuse was her period, which he knew had arrived before she did. Every night this week he had kissed her outside her dorm and then nudged her inside, leaving her aching and cranky.

This meant that she got to know her roommate (who seemed to dislike Edward at first sight) and got plenty of sage advice from her floor advisor (who seemed to fall apart into a blushing, babbling mess whenever Edward came to pick Bella up). Class lectures had been initially terrifying. Everything was so profound, so layered, so difficult! She found she had to _think _and think hard_,_ as if new, untried parts of her brain were being awakened from their Forks High stupor.

Alice's vision seemed impossible. These future friends, even the supposed alcoholic, surely wouldn't emerge from the opinionated intellectuals of _Lit 320 British Masterworks_ or _Lit 308 Introduction to the Novel._ Bella felt more like a dork from Forks than an Ivy League scholar. She missed Angela and even Jake a bit, though she was only returning one text for his every three.

This afternoon, Edward and Bella lounged in the 'Swan Study Centre', as Edward had christened it, on floor pillows and beanbags that had replaced the dining room set. Bella's brain flitted between _The Faerie Queen_ and her regret that she had talked Edward out of English Lit. The only distraction from these struggles was the long, lean proportions of Edward's body as he reclined on the rug. She'd seen a statue like that, somewhere. Apollo or Adam. One bicep bulged from beneath his sleeve. She wanted to put her mouth on it.

"I'm sleeping over here tonight," she declared, putting her foot on his shin. "It's been five days." Meaning, _I finished my period._ Meaning, _I'm touching you tonight._

He swallowed. "Don't you have to write an essay tonight?"

"A mini-essay, a thousand words max. Piece of cake."

'Okay," he said evenly. His eyes flickered to hers a moment, then back to his textbook. The highlighter in his right hand remained uncapped. He probably knew it all already.

She ran the ball of her foot up and down his thigh, with a furtive eye on his lap. If she saw a tell-tale jerk in his jeans, she would _pounce_.

He caught her foot just before it landed on his crotch. "Bella." He chuckled. "The builders are still here."

"And why are they here at all?" she asked, rising to her elbows. "Some Cullen compulsion to enlarge and perfect everything? To create another magazine-quality interior? I mean, _who_ needs a swimming pool in New Hampshire?" She fixed him with a demanding glare.

"We do," he said, unphased. He still held onto her heel. Then he turned his head toward the door just before a knock sounded on the door frame.

It was Nick, _again_, poking his head through the door. Was there no privacy in this house?

"We're gonna pack up for the day, Mister Masen. You guys have a good evening." Nick saw them on the floor with her heel in Edward's hand and smiled. The man's fine blonde hair was so dusty it was white and he had a clean spot around his eyes where the goggles must have sat.

"He's kind of cute," provoked Bella, once Nick was gone.

"Oh _really_?" said Edward, arching one eyebrow in a mock jealousy. "He thinks you're a cute little girl too. He's thirty-six."

"And he calls _you_ Mister." She snorted.

"Want to come see what they did today?"

"NO." She stared determinedly at the pages of _The Faerie Queen_.

He frowned and gave her foot a little squeeze. "If I told you the construction was sex -related, _then_ would you come and look?"

_What?_ Was this a joke, a ruse, a lure? Yes it was, she decided. She tossed her head. "No. No thank you."

"Suit yourself," he said. He dropped her foot and was gone. She stared at the place where he had been two seconds ago and sighed. Seduction was going to be difficult tonight. She might have to resort to purple lingerie.

She spied Edward's phone on the rug, perhaps fallen from his pocket. She wondered if there had been further riddles from Tanya lately. Feeling a bit guilty, Bella scooted through the pillows on her elbows and peered at the screen. Nothing.

She looked in the Recently Deleted box.

Shit. _One message _. Caller: Tanya_. _It was unread, which meant Edward was continuing his policy of ignoring Tanya's texts. Well, Bella wasn't going to hide her head in the sand. She opened the message:

_A man is his own easiest dupe, for what he wishes to be true he generally believes to be true_.

God. Whatever. Tanya's campaign continues. Bella would prefer something more concrete. Something _reportable._

Just how frequently was she sending him messages? Were there emails too? The phone rang in Bella's hand and she jumped, dropping it into the pillows again. "HELLO!" she practically shouted when she found it.

"BELLA!" bellowed Emmett right back in her ear. "How are things?"

"Ugh, fine. I guess."

"That doesn't sound like _fine_ to me."

"Well! Everyone here is too damn smart. I don't know whether I live on Balch Road or at the dorm. There are construction men everywhere and..." _Tanya freaks me out and Edward won't take off his pants._

"Awww, that sucks. Sucks a big one. Freshman year is a rough ride, I agree. You've gotta give it a chance. I usually settle in, once I start pretending I'm an intellectual."

"Oh Emmett." She smiled, shaking her head. "I wish pretending were enough."

"So, um, tell me. Is Edward still the cleanest vampire in all of North America?"

"What do you mean?"

"Showers every day, that dude. Particularly since he met you."

"Of course he showers every day. Usually before I get up in the morning."

"Okay. Just checking," he chortled. "Keep working on him. Don't give up."

"I...I will?"

"Don't forget. He is a dude. Ya know?"

Bella turned around and jumped. Edward loomed behind her, with his arms folded and irritation in his eyes. Recoiling slightly, she passed the phone over, and the first thing he said was "I heard all that and you are NOT funny Emmett McCarty Cullen."

8&8&8&8&8&8&

"Bella. Hey, Bella-sweet. Wake up. Won't you be late for class?"

Bella looked up blearily from the pillow. Edward sat on the edge of the bed, dressed for the day. Then she remembered. "My essay!" she gasped, sitting up like a shot.

"It's in the printer tray. It looked like you were done, concluding paragraph and all, so I printed it."

"Oooowwwwh, crap," she groaned and rubbed her eyes. "Yes, I was done. I doubt it's an A-paper, though." She leaned forward to kiss him good morning, then drew back. "Hey. Did we... Did we do anything last night?"

He smothered a laugh. "Um, you tried. I carried you to bed and you fell asleep with your hand down the back of my pajamas, mumbling about Edmund Spenser. I should probably feel insulted."

"Don't you dare laugh. Don't you _dare_," she fumed. She pushed around him and headed to the shower. "It's not funny," she called over her shoulder. "I wanted..._I wanted you last night_."

"Bella..." he said apologetically, but she ignored him, slamming the bathroom door.

She got into the shower and let the water drown a few of her frustrated tears, while she scrubbed and shampooed. It wasn't his fault she fell asleep, but his laugh this morning was the last straw for her thwarted libido. Four minutes later she stomped downstairs clutching a towel to her front with one arm, carrying her clothing and a few toiletries with the other.

"Coffee? Bagel?" he said, buttering a bagel half. He gasped when he turned around. "Fuck me," he shouted, then slapped his hand over his mouth.

"Oh, don't worry," she snapped, snatching a bagel half from the plate. "I'll be dressed and out of here before the builders arrive." With a bagel in her mouth, she put on her bra and panties, leaving the towel on the floor, Edward-style. She ignored his astonished stare.

She bounced into her jeans while she chewed; she finished dressing as he set her to-go-cup of coffee on the table. His hand displayed a slight tremble and he was satisfyingly speechless.

"Hah," she cried, putting her hair into a messy bun. "Less than ten minutes. Not bad for a human."

"Not bad," he rasped.

She picked up her coffee and stepped forward; he stepped back. She backed him against the counter without actually touching him. A brief staring contest ensued. His treacle-colored, predatory eyes failed to subdue the warm, defiant ones in front of him.

She blinked first, because he didn't have to blink at all. "See ya," she hummed. She kissed her forefinger and touched it to his lips before putting her nose in the air and sauntering out the door with her backpack. A superb exit, she thought, though she didn't know exactly what she was trying to prove. She decided to take the municipal bus, rejecting both the old Volvo and the orphaned, shiny new SUV that sat in the drive. When she was halfway down the road, she came to a sudden halt.

"My essay. CRAP-ola." She had forgotten it. So much for her drama queen exit. Back to the house it was. She opened the kitchen door and was ready to sashay past him to the printer, but Edward was no longer there. She heard the shower going upstairs.

Again? Hadn't he showered in the middle of the night?

_The cleanest vampire in all of North America_, Emmett had said. _Don't forget. He's a dude._

And then suddenly she understood. Why Edward showered every day in a house full of superhearing, super-sexed vampires. Why Edward wasn't as frustrated and achy and desperate as Bella was. Why a naturally clean-and-fragrant vampire even needed a shower.

Bella crept up the stairs, wondering if he would hear her footsteps over the noise of the water. She opened the unlocked door, and sure enough, there he was in all his naked glory. She could see him through the glass, his face hidden in the crook of his left elbow, while he propped his head against the tile. His right hand pumped his erection at vampire speed.

Bella dropped her backpack to the floor. Ah, he heard that. Stricken, he fell back against the tile cursing and trying to cover himself with his hands.

Bella opened the door and stepped in, shoes and all. The water poured over her. "Is this, like...a regular thing?"

He looked away, embarrassed. He nodded. "Worse," he whispered, "since the purple lingerie. I cannot help it!" he cried. "You drive me—"

"Good," she said, putting her hand over his mouth momentarily to shut him up. She ran her hands in tandem over his slick, soapy body, from his shoulders to his abs, and down over his ass. "You are so perfect," she whispered. She raised her eyes to his, now a feral black. Without breaking eye contact, she took his wet cock in her hand and began to stroke.

"FuckBellapleassssse," he gasped. "The glove; I might hurt you."

"You're fully hard," she countered, moving her hand steadily. "Why do you hide yourself from me?" she cried. "I can do this for you."

"I don't want..._oh God_...I don't want to be a savage, ripping your clothes and losing my control to lust and dishonor _God that's good_," he groaned.

"There is no dishonor in loving me, in making me feel good." She unbuttoned and unzipped her soaking jeans. "You hurt my feelings when you are so cool and disciplined." She was crying again, while she stroked him. She took his hand. "Touch me please," she begged. "Together?"

"Together," he murmured and he worked his hand down the front of her jeans until he could slip a finger inside of her. There was no loitering at the clitoris; he went straight to task. Her legs began to tremble as he pumped his finger with the limited movements that her jeans would allow. They breathed and moaned together, nose to nose, never looking away, swaying and struggling to stay upright.

"I won't last," he cried, as she moved her hand faster.

"Come for me," she whispered, surprising herself with brave, wanton words. "Come _on_ me."

That triggered it and he came all over her wet t-shirt, closing his eyes at last. He didn't so much as pause in his finger movements, though; they were jerky and vampire-fast, his palm putting rhythmic pressure against her entire center. She clutched at his iron arms and leaned against him, until the spiralling grip of her climax overtook her. They stood recovering in the spray with breaths heaving, half collapsed against the tile.

"Thank GOD," she said, with half a laugh and half a sob. "I was beginning to think that you didn't want me."

"Oh Bella, I _always_ want you," he said, emotion colouring his voice. He stroked her hair. "Always. Forgive my cool conduct this week. It was...I don't know... a misguided attempt to convince you I was still a gentleman?"

"I like you as both caveman and gentleman, actually. Alternating," she laughed quietly. "And...if you really want to buy me something for my birthday..."

"Oh? Yes?"

"You can get me a new nightgown."

"Excellent." He sounded very pleased with that idea. "Bella."

"Mm?"

"I think my hand is stuck."

She laughed and helped him to work his hand out of her jeans. Then he wrapped his arms back around her, and they sighed together, basking in the exquisite high that comes from getting off with the one you love. He murmured _I love you's_ and Bella rested her cheek on his chest, soaking up the words and repeating them back.

When the hot water went lukewarm, Bella knew she was truly going to be late for class.

"I can't skip class," she groaned. "My essay. He wants a hard copy."

"Chop chop," he said, setting her properly onto her feet. I'll take you on the Ducati."

Fifteen minutes later, Edward carried a wet-haired but dry-dressed Bella on the back of his motorcycle to the pedestrian Quadrangle. It was a sunny day, and Edward wore his helmet, his gloves and full length everything, so that not even a sliver of skin showed at neck or wrist.

"Will you make it walking?" he shouted over his shoulder.

"Maybe...I'll have to run," she said.

"Then hang on." He mounted the pavement, squeezing between the bollards.

"Edward!" she shrieked, laughing. He deftly dodged startled students and earned a fist-shaking from a Dartmouth grounds employee. He took her straight to her building and drove through the automatic glass doors into the foyer.

"Milady," he said gallantly over the rumble of the machine, and she dismounted near an open-mouthed group of her classmates.

Edward pulled off his helmet (as they were now indoors) and leaned over to kiss her, wearing a grin as broad as she had ever seen on him.

"See you," she said, ruffling his damp hair.

"Yep," he said, still grinning. He put his helmet on and every person in the foyer watched in silence as he disappeared out the building and down the quad.

"Student vehicles aren't allowed in the Quad," muttered a perky know-it-all that Bella had dubbed 'Miss Granger'. "And certainly not _inside a building_."

"Oh, who gives a damn, when he looks like _that_," said another girl loudly and someone guffawed.

Bella couldn't help but beam. "Yeah," she agreed. "He gets away with murder."

8&8&8&8&8&

Bella floated on a lusty cloud the rest of the day, despite a daunting new assignment in American Government and several misconjugations in front of the class in Spanish. She felt she and Edward had reached a new understanding. He hadn't freaked out in the middle or run away afterwards, either. He had held her! He had held her and it had been glorious.

In her mind she contemplated various scenarios, both sexy and emotional, langorous and cathartic, where they lost their virginity the following Saturday.

So when a text arrived from Alice _'You have a visitor',_ Bella's fantasies disintegrated and she hurried home with anxiety, texting frantically during the bus ride. Bella half expected Tanya to show up, dripping wet as if she'd swam the Atlantic this time. Or Jake, here to persuade Bella that werewolf girlfriends were somehow far more normal. Maybe it was Esme, come to repair the results of Bella's blasphemous decorating decisions.

'_WHO?' _and_ 'Should I be worried?'_ were answered with '_Irina'_ and _'Not this time.' _

Irina was the one Denali girl that had hardly registered with Bella the night of Manhunt. Kate had been sweet and touchy-feely; Tanya, cold and cruel.

Irina? Bella had no idea what to expect, but she refused to show fear. She took a deep breath and walk casually up the front walk, pausing to pick up the mail and say hello to one of the young workmen. The usual building noises continued in the extension. Surely Irina wouldn't do anything awful with so many humans present.

"Well, speak of the devil," Irina said sharply just as Bella came through the door. Edward was there, apparently just arrived with his motorcycle helmet in his hand. Bella could see she had interrupted an already heated discussion between the two vampires.

"Irina. Nice to see you again," said Bella, mustering all her self-confidence into an expression that conveyed _I am the lady of this house _as well as _this vampire is mine_. Nevermind that Irina looked like an exotic white tiger today, in a form-fitting striped dress and thigh high black boots, her dirty blonde hair pulled into a perfect chignon.

"This is a surprise," Bella prompted, after they had all stared at one another for a few seconds.

Irina hesitated for a moment, then abruptly relaxed into a more human deportment. "Yes. I had to fly out and see Edward." She sighed as if she were weary. "Coven business, you know?" She stepped forward and kissed Bella on both cheeks, European style.

Edward seemed to be on a hair-trigger alert; he looked perfectly still and yet poised to spring at the same time. Then he was suddenly beside Bella, with his arm around her waist.

"Good day?" he said into her ear, kissing the top of her head.

"It was a good start," said Bella dryly and he smiled. "Um, coven business?" she asked. "Meaning-"

"Edward. I could use a meal," interrupted Irina, folding her arms. The tension in the room ratcheted right back up and Edward firmed his grip on Bella's waist.

"Yes, you could," he retorted. "There is a thriving deer population in the woods. Feel free." He pointed in the direction of the rear kitchen door.

Irina's nostrils flared. "I would like to continue our discussion, please," she said through gritted teeth.

"Fine, we'll have it here, after I make Bella some dinner," he said. "Bella is part of my coven—"

Irina snorted. "Not yet, she's not."

"As good as."

Bella butted in. "I won't be kept in the dark. If Tanya intends to threaten me—"

"Oh, for God's sake, it's not always about YOU, you know," said Irina scathingly. "I am more likely to hurt you than Tanya. At least today." Her eyes blazed at Bella for no more than a second – a subliminal message that Bella wouldn't have even observed if she weren't accustomed to vampires and their speed.

"Stop that this fucking instant," barked Edward, taking a step forward, "or there will be no discussion at all."

"_Look_!" said Irina, gesturing at Bella. "It _didn't even work_. She has no fear." Irina shook her head in wonder. "What a strange little human you are, Bella Swan."

Bella said nothing, but held her chin up with a touch of pride.

Irina's head fell forward and she laughed, putting her hands over her eyes. "Oh, I am being horribly rude, aren't I? Esme and Carmen would have my head on a plate. Not literally, of course," she smirked. "I'm sorry, Edward. Forgive me, Bella. This whole thing has badly unsettled me, that's all."

Edward relaxed marginally, apparently believing her. Bella was not so sure. What _thing_ did she refer to?

"What do you propose?" he asked, apparently answering one of Irina's thoughts.

"Please. Let Bella have her dinner. I want to um, say hello, to all those delicious smelling men in the next room—"

"NO you will not," said Edward, with a firm shake of his head. "I need them all."

"Okay. _Fine_," she chirped. "No men. But we can relax and join Bella for her dinner. Then I need to talk to Edward about _some personal issues of mine_." She fixed him with a stare, as if she were conveying it all now.

"Being the mind-reading bastard that he is," she murmured at him with a strange sort of affection, "it won't take very long."

&8&8&8&8&8&

It wasn't until after her dinner, when Irina and Edward headed back toward the woods for a hunt and their _discussion_, that Bella had a chance to look at the day's mail.

There was a post card, addressed in a feminine cursive to E. Cullen, 12 Balch Hill Road, Hanover, NH, USA. The photo side displayed a panoramic view of city on a bay. Indecipherable Cyrillic letters splashed across in a jaunty font. Russian. Bella's heart rate picked up a notch.

Bella turned it over again. On the back was written a single word in capital letters: Vladivostok.

&8&8&8&8&8&

Author notes: Yeah, sorry to interrupt the sex with a bit of plot. A short 1968 flashback up next plus Bella's birthday. Will they give up their V-cards?

Tanya's quote is not Shakespeare this time but from a Greek, Demosthenes. I don't know anything about the layout of Dartmouth, but I suspect it has pedestrian only areas. Vladivostok is a city on the eastern (Pacific) coast of the Russian Federation.

Be sure to check out a quickie short story I have going.  
Waiting for Love at Terminal Five. BxE and AH. www[dot]fanfiction[dot]net/s/6267155/1/Waiting_for_Love_at_Terminal_Five


	20. Chapter 20: Quite an Assumption

Thanks to Project Team Beta gals, Angel and Kristi for their encouragement and speedy turnaround. All errors, added after their eagle-eyed beta job, are mine.

Recap from last chapter: Bella gets Edward off in the shower, uh-HUH, and Irina makes a surprise visit. Tanya sends a postcard from the east coast of Russia.

**Chapter 20: Quite an Assumption**

Edward let Irina lead, so he could modulate his speed accordingly. She was a tiger-striped beacon in the dark. They caught the scent simultaneously - white tailed deer- and she veered right, upland. He wanted her either fully sated or out of the state, frankly. She could not be trusted; they would have their discussion then he would tell her to move on.

He came to a stop and gave her some space while she drained a young buck. The link between feeding and lust was always present, and all the more so for the Denali women when alone with a male. She was almost a quarter of a mile away, but she rose and turned to him anyway, eyes hooded and libido primed. She licked the blood from her lips. "Edward," she said, in a low voice that made the words enter his head. _Take me make me tie me up. _Never as clear and as effective as Tanya's ability, but at least he recognized it now, after forty years.

"Another one," he commanded. "Track and feed again. Then we'll talk."

Irina smirked at him and turned, in pursuit of the fleeing herd. Ten minutes later, she had taken another, a second young buck. "You are consistent in your taste," he commented wryly and she laughed, flinging the corpse to the ground.

"Only YOU are allowed to make that observation," she said. "Join me at the top of the hill?"

"All right," he agreed, and his mind drifted back to 1968, when Irina had said exactly the same thing. _Join me, Edward, at the top of the hill._

**September 1968, Denali, Alaska**

_He's guessed it, he knows, he's guessed, he knows..._

Irina's mind played like a broken record. "Join me, Edward, at the top of the hill?" she called amiably as she ran.

_Pftt, what an act_. She had lured him away from the others –he let her think so anyway – in pursuit of a Canadian lynx. She reviewed her real plans in her head: _seduce and kill when vulnerable _followed by the worry _how will I explain his disappearance to the others?_

Less than twenty-four hours into the Cullens' visit, Edward had sussed Irina's secret. Like the 'don't think of a blue elephant' trick, she had panicked and thought of her crimes the moment he had revealed his mind-reading ability to the group. However, she seemed to think that Edward had to be looking _at her _to read her mind, and therefore she spent an evening or two nervously plotting his demise in the next room, as transparently as if she had simply told him.

He thought it, well, _unsociable_ to confront her, especially so early in this strange, contrived courtship-of-three he was pursuing. So instead he kept himself attuned to her mind - and wary in her presence.

The scream of the lynx told him Irina had caught her quarry. He slowed as he crested the hill, not wanting his own bloodlust to cloud his judgement.

She stood, turned to him and held out a dripping finger. "Try it," she breathed, looking at him through her lashes. "The local lynx has a delicate flavour."

_Fuck_ Irina was sensuous creature, he could not deny it. She was the most exotic looking of the Denali girls, with her almond shaped eyes and her beauty mark. He was drawn forward, obscene thoughts peppering his mind, and suddenly he found himself in front of her. She arched up toward him, her eyelids fluttering. She raised her finger.

He could not explain why, but _he let her_ invade his mouth with the bloody finger. He was vampire- still, mesmerised. She slid her finger further in, mirroring her own full lips into an 'o'.

He almost lost himself – _what the hell_ _am I doing_—but read her true, unstoppable thought: _attack when he comes._ He grabbed her wrist, yanking her finger away from his mouth. "A fool's plan," he hissed, furious with himself and her. "There is no need to kill me, or seduce me."

"Chyort voz'mi!" she hissed right back at him. "You know, don't you?"

"That you eat young men? Yeah."

Irina shot out her foot to catch him in the groin, but he anticipated it and caught her foot. She hopped awkwardly, with her hand and her foot in each of his hands.

"You don't understand!" she cried. "Tanya will oust me if she finds out. She is militant in her beliefs!"

"Settle down or we'll attract the others," he replied, his voice low and hard. "She might also oust you if you bring on the wrath of my coven." She realized he was right, but continued to attack him with her free hand. He pitched forward, pinning Irina's limbs to the ground while she swore in rapid Russian. "Hush, Irina. Hush and listen."

When she was well and truly held down by his body, she stopped struggling and glared up at him. "You'll tell her," she said in a soft wail.

"I WON'T."

"You'll tell Carlisle, that righteous prick of a saint. He'll go blabbing. And I'll be out on my own again."

"Listen Irina," he said, barely keeping his temper in check. No one calls Carlisle a _prick_. "I pick up a lot of dark secrets. People's lowest, most desperate acts. Their shameful regrets. It's a hell of a burden, and there is little benefit to sharing that knowledge with my family. I learned decades ago that I cannot – should not—play God."

"Tell and I will kill you," she spat at him.

"You're _not listening_. I won't interfere in your coven's business. Or your own lapses of self-control. Do you believe me?"

She challenged him with her eyes, thinking in Russian.

"Yes, you're going to have to trust me," he said.

"You understand Russian?" she said skeptically.

"No, but people think in concepts too, you know. A universal language."

He held her still, cataloguing her jumbled thoughts. Then they took an abrupt turn. "This feels good." She gave a feral smile. "Your body atop mine."

He was instantly on his feet again. He shook his head ruefully and offered a hand up. "Are we agreed? I won't tell and you'll stop, uh, planning my murder in the next room. Makes it hard to relax in the evenings."

"Khuinya," she swore under her breath. "How far away can you read my mind?"

"Up to two miles in a dry climate. Maybe four in high humidity. Further underwater."

Her jaw dropped open. "And you said nothing to me, all this time?"

He shrugged in response. "It would have been impolite."

"_Impolite_." She broke into laughter. "All right," she said after a minute. "I suppose I don't have a choice. I will let it go, for now." She brushed off her clothes. "Be certain that I WILL kill you if you tell Tanya. Or anyone, for that matter."

"You can't kill me," he scoffed. "I can _read _you coming." He tapped his head. He decided not to mention Alice's abilities, or the fact that she probably foresaw this entire conversation. "And I'm bigger than you, anyway," he pointed out. "Stronger, faster."

"Hah, you don't know how vulnerable I can make a man, vampire or human." She gave him an appraising look. "You would be a good match for me, you know. I have a preference for young men; I know exactly what to do with their bodies."

He looked away, his old-fashioned self bristling. "You killed that possibility when you killed your last victim. In bed."

She scowled, her perfect face twisted. "You won't play God, but you judge, don't you? That young man died in ecstasy." She stepped forward and danced her fingers over Edward's chest. "_Ecstasy_," she repeated, in that whisper that made his dick twitch.

"Okay, I'm done here," he said coolly. "_We're_ done."

**8&8&8&8&8&8&8&8&8&8&8&8&**

"Well?" asked Irina, when he had joined her at the top of the hill.

"Well what?" He looked back through the trees. He could just see the lights of his house. _Their_ house. Bella's and Edward's.

"Oh, stop grinning, loverboy, and read my mind already! What the hell is Tanya up to?"

"I have no idea."

"You know she had a terrible fight with Carlisle-over Bella's turning."

"So I've heard."

"Now Tanya's off to Russia, looking for 'her own candidate', she told me in her very last text. What does that mean?" lamented Irina, turning her palm up at Edward. "She won't answer her phone. Is she doing a complete about-face in dogma? Is she going to turn a man for herself? Does this mean I can bite someone now without eviction?"

"Whoa," said Edward, holding up his palms. "Maybe she was just ranting. Or being ironic."

Irina narrowed her eyes. She hadn't considered that. "Hm. Every century or so she gets some newfangled idea in her head. First it was 'only eat the peasants' in 1604, then it was 'you can only eat the enemies of your lover' a century later, then BAM, one June day in 1898 she decided we're not going to eat _anyone at all_. How unnatural is _that_?"

"Okay, perhaps it's a ruse. She's trying to manipulate Carlisle. Or you, for that matter. "

"She's good at the mind-fuck, yes," muttered Irina. "But what does she really want?"

"I don't really give a damn what she wants. I've been ignoring her texts." He shook his head. "I won't be drawn in, Irina. Speculate away, but I won't get involved."

"But this is your fault! Your human is the cause of this!"

"My family has agreed to support Bella's decision," he said diplomatically. "No one is asking _you_ to break off ties with our coven, even if your leader does so. Considering your occasional feeding habits—"

"I haven't eaten anyone in over a year," she protested.

"—I didn't think you'd object to my biting Bella on principle."

"On principle, no. I object because it has unsettled my coven. You've screwed up Tanya's plans and maybe her current philosophy. Huh, which would be great if it means I can feed on people again! But I need...I _need those rules_. I can't get by without clear coven rules..." Irina wrung her hands.

Edward resisted feeling sorry for her. Irina was at heart a feral vampire, but had chosen the coven –and therefore companionship, love, protection -over her own desire to feed on human blood. And as much as she loved men, she needed the company of women. She needed her sisters.

"What plans of hers have I screwed up exactly?" asked Edward curiously.

"Oh, please. You are to be hers eventually." Irina rolled her eyes. "Surely you know this by now."

He laughed caustically. "O-kay. That's quite an assumption. A _pre_sumption. Don't I have a say in this?"

"No, you don't," she sniffed. "Tanya always gets her prize. Always. One fuck and they are smitten. Forever. Tanya has been very tolerant of you. Trying to_ be friends_ and all."

"_Tolerant?_ She is _tolerant of me_. Jesus, the arrogance." He kicked at a stone. It went whistling through the air and ricocheted off a tree trunk somewhere in the darkness.

"Why couldn't you just follow the pattern, like the rest of us?" she went on. Irina paced, her feet making no sound on the woodland floor. "Have a few love affairs over a couple of centuries, get your heart broken, mature a bit. I am sure Bella and a few subsequent mates could resolve your sexual problem."

"HEY. I don't have a sexual problem." He didn't like the _mature-a-bit_ comment much either.

She stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. "It's okay Edward. You're in a seventeen year old body. I can give you tips, you know, to postpone your clim-"

"I _said_ I don't have a problem," he glowered down at her. "That was an excuse that Tanya fed you and Kate, back in 1968."

"An excuse?" Irina drew back. "For what?"

"For her failed seduction. She failed to seduce me."

Irina's eyes widened. "No. She chose not to try again, when you clearly had an, uh, _early_ arrival. She doesn't have the patience for that, like I do."

"A lie. I walked away."

"Impossible! No man walks away from her. She has a _gift."_

"Yes, I know," he said through gritted teeth, pissed off that he was discussing that damn incident again. "But I resisted. And I left. It's as simple as that. Tanya and I don't speak about it. Or...we didn't before."

Irina stood staring. "Wow. What a revelation. Tanya was rejected." She shook her head, as if she were trying to settle the information in her brain. "By the virgin prince, no less."

"You _know_ I don't like that nickname," he growled. Edward crossed his arms over his chest. "I have held my tongue, reluctantly, for forty years while you and Kate thought I had a 'problem'. But last month Tanya told Bella quite a different story – one equally misleading. Therefore I have cut off my friendship with Tanya. I see no need to abet her false stories anymore."

"Cut off? First Carlisle, now you." Irina tapped a finger to her chin, thinking. "Well, no wonder Tanya has run away in a tiff. She won't stand for this fuck-up, you know. Tanya doesn't let things happen to her, she makes things happen. You are supposed to be her mate..." Irina trailed off, pacing again.

Edward curled his fists in anger. He had never heard this thought expressed so directly, not in almost forty years, when Kate had said the same thing in the book store in Juneau. All three women spent their lives controlling men in one way or another. To lump him in that group – as another powerless, seducible male – was infuriating.

"Irina," said Edward firmly. "Listen. I will be turning Bella, when she is ready. Maybe sooner, maybe later. Maybe never, if she changes her mind. But make no mistake: she and I are together. She is my priority and my life, above and beyond the rule of covens, Volturi laws, or the mercurial decisions of Tanya. I'm sorry if it has caused you trouble. You and your sisters have been together for a millennium, with the odd fallout every now and then. This too will pass." He stepped over to her, put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks. "Now I'm returning to my mate. And you should go."

She gave him a wry, knowing smile. "I guess you won't let me stay. Not in a house with the love of your existence and a room full of hot construction workers."

He smiled grimly. "That's correct. Go to New York. See Alice. She might have better answers."

He gave her a small salute, turned and headed down the hill. She watched him go, her thoughts mulling upon their strange relationship. She and Edward did not particularly like one another, not really. But he was the only one who knew of her weakness and she usually felt a great relief whenever they had the rare chance to discuss it. Tonight, there was no relief, only the weight of uncertainty about what Tanya would do next, and the unpleasant memories of the odd decade, once in the fourteenth century and several times in the eighteenth, when Irina had been alone.

"Do svidaniya, Edward," she called through the trees. _Until we meet again_.

"Do svidaniya, Irina."

8&8&8&8&8&

"Bad news, Edward," said Alice's recorded message. Edward was just out of class and he stood in the shade of the PT building with his phone to his ear. "Bella is going to get a C on her paper. She'll be upset. Discouraged. You might want to go and meet her after class. Though I see a couple of possibilities, as it is sunny up there, right? But the main one is that she is upset."

Damn. It was a cloudless blue-sky kind of day, with just the first hint of autumn cool in the air. Edward would have to ride his motorcycle in pedestrian areas again, or walk across campus in his helmet. Fine. Whatever. Fortunately, he didn't give a damn what humans thought of him, as long as it wasn't _vampire_. Bella needed his comfort.

One of his fellow students was standing there too, fiddling with her backpack – though really just prolonging the time she could be near him and look at him. He gave her a slightly embarrassed smile (oh how she beamed back in surprise!) put his motorcycle helmet on, shouldered his backpack, and headed across the sunny lawn, toward Bella's building.

_How utterly bizarre_, thought his classmate.

_Whatever_, thought Edward.

Fifteen minutes later, he removed his helmet in the shade of a mature Red Maple next to the English department, and sat down to wait. He searched the minds in the building, looking for her class. He found it easily, as nearly everyone had received a lower-than-expected grade, and most were horrified. _Straight A's all through high school_, most of them were thinking. Edward chuckled. Freshman year was a harsh and necessary introduction to the world. There are always those greater and lesser than yourself, kids. Even if you were valedictorian.

He found a mind that sat diagonally behind Bella. She had her hand over her mouth and her eyes ran frantically back and forth over her paper, re-reading it. She was in shock, poor thing. Edward tapped his fingers on his helmet, feeling guilty. Perhaps he should have reviewed it last night or coached her a little, nevermind the _enabler _role he was supposed to be avoiding. Bella was actually a pretty good writer, in Edward's opinion. Unpolished, perhaps, but the potential was there. She might even shine, eventually.

It wasn't long before her class came filing out of the building, still clutching their papers and furtively fishing for comparison with fellow classmates. There was Bella, beautiful today in jeans and a fitted T-shirt, her hair loose around her shoulders. Stalking, he realized, was truly a guilty pleasure. Right now, however, she was near tears, and he rose from his seat, thinking he might get her attention without having to put his stupid helmet over his head and step into the sunshine.

A skinny girl with multiple piercings peered blatantly at Bella's paper. "Oh my God, you got a C?" she asked, and Bella recoiled in mortification, holding it even closer to her chest. "I think you're the only one? Looks like all D's from here. I think that dude got an EFFFF," she hissed in a low tone, and Bella looked discreetly over at a devastated student, his jaw hung open, staring incredulously at his paper.

"What did you do right?" The girl peeled back Bella's paper again with her fingers.

"I...I don't know," said Bella. "Seems like all complaints to me. 'Weak argument.' 'Who exactly is your audience?' 'I'm not convinced.' Stuff like that."

"What a pretentious shit he is, Professor Prufrock. Just listen to this!" The girl read her own comments aloud, in a rather bad British accent.

Bella smiled and so did Edward. The professor's name was actually Pruitt and his accent was Bostonian. Edward picked up his helmet, ready to come in and whisk his darling away. A hot bath and supper, followed by soft reassurances among the pillows of the former dining room - that should help. Bella was bright enough for the Ivy League; she just didn't believe it yet.

"Let's go and get some coffee or something?" said the skinny girl. Everything she said sounded like a question. "And maybe F-boy will want to join us? Our D and C will look better next to him, heheh. It's time for some serious Pru-bashing?"

Bella checked her watch and hesitated. Edward also hesitated, under the trees. This was it, he thought. Was this the moment where she began her friendships, where she took a path that separated her just a healthy smidgen from her dependence on his company? Or if he interfered, would the skinny girl turn to someone else for coffee next week? Edward held his breath. He would leave it to Bella.

"Um." Bella shifted on her feet. "I should probably text my boyfriend."

"That hot guy on the motorcycle? Ooh, invite him too, if you want. I could eyeball that for like, _hours_?" And two minutes later, Bella, Freya and a whimpering boy named Joe were all making their way across the Quad to the Student Union, where an outdoor cafe' sat in full sunshine. Edward watched Bella pull out her phone as she shuffled along. He received her text: "Coffee with classmates. Is that okay? See you at dinner. Love B." Nothing about her C grade.

Ouch. This hurts, he thought, watching Bella's retreating back. "No problem," he texted back. "Love you." With a curse at Jasper, for being so mature and so god damn _right_, Edward put his helmet on and trudged back the way he came, feeling this time like a bit of a fool.

8&8&8&8&8&

"Happy Birthday Bells." Edward could hear Charlie's gravelly voice through the phone even from downstairs, where Edward was preparing breakfast-in-bed: chocolate brioche, strawberries with honeyed Greek yogurt, and hot black coffee. He didn't dare attempt an egg, It was too easy to overcook or undercook, and he wanted perfection this morning.

"Thanks Dad," she answered. "So I got your card. And the money. You really didn't have to, you know."

"Eah, you're only a poor student. Or you should be, if Edward isn't spoiling you too much."

"Um, he's not," she said. "Well, yeah okay," she giggled. "Maybe a bit."

_Just wait_, thought Edward. He would treat Bella like a queen today. He would ply her with compliments and kisses and cunnilingus. He had gotten carried away with his single gift concession, 'a replacement nightgown', and had bought twelve expensive, exquisite silky things of varying degrees of skimpiness.

He held a tiny hope, which he tucked inside his heart, that there was a chance for a successful marriage proposal today. He would take his mother's ring along in his pocket tonight, just in case the moment presented itself, at dinner or afterwards.

Maybe he'd contact Alice this afternoon, and get the updated odds: _for_ or _against_.

Bella was squealing now, upstairs, and Edward only got part of Charlie's side of the conversation. Balancing a tray above his head in one hand and an enormous bouquet of white roses in the other, Edward ascended the stairs as Bella was hanging up.

"Oh wow. _Wow_," she cried. "Thank you. Gorgeous."

"They don't smell quite as good as you do, but they look pretty," he said, setting everything down on their bed and leaning over to give her a kiss.

"I was referring to the waiter, not the roses," she joked. She gathered up the enormous bouquet. "Though a naked delivery would have been even better," she said cheekily, and she put her face into the soft fragrant petals.

"Demanding today, aren't you," he chuckled, and he settled cross-legged on the bed to watch her eat. "Maybe later." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I'll _deliver _something, all right."

"All right," she agreed, putting the roses aside. "I think you will." Her cheeks went pink and he grinned, neither quite looking at one another, the anticipation for the evening already building. "So," she said abruptly, wanting to change the subject. "Guess what Charlie said!"

"Um, Sue Clearwater and Charlie. New York City. Christmas."

Bella stared. "You heard him all the way from downstairs?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, sorry."

"What do you think?"

"Good for Charlie, I say," Edward said hesitantly, not knowing if Bella approved of Sue.

"I know, right?" she waved a strawberry around like a victory cheer, then popped it into her mouth. "And is that okay with you? If we meet up in New York?" she asked. "It means we won't go to Forks for Christmas."

"Sounds excellent actually," he enthused. "Alice will be thrilled to bits."

"I know right?"

"I know. Right," laughed Edward. Bella had picked up some phrases from her new classmate, which was amusing, since she had always showed nothing but disdain for the repetitive, faddish phrases that Jessica Stanley had always used. "New York it is!" he said.

Bella examined her brioche, deciding which end to eat first. "Hm," she mused. "Jacob won't be too pleased."

"_And_?" said Edward dismissively. Jacob really should _move on_.

"He keeps texting and emailing me."

"What?" exclaimed Edward, taken aback. This was news. "He does?"

"Well, Tanya keeps sending _you_ postcards from Russia. Last one from Tura, wherever that is. And she texts you. I've seen them."

"Completely different situation, you nosey parker," he said, with a little indignation. "I don't even open her texts!"

"Nosey parker?" she teased. "What decade is that from? "

"What does Jacob say?" he pressed.

"The usual stuff. Just more... I don't know..._insistent_ lately. Email and text rants about how you can hurt me. Physically, I mean."

"Well," muttered Edward, fingering the bedclothes. "He's right about that."

"I don't know, I think we've made big progress since July." She managed to not blush this time. Since the shower episode, Edward had been there in bed every morning when she woke up. He had not protested Wednesday morning when she had shimmied his pajamas down over his hips and efficiently jacked him off. He had put his face in the pillow afterwards, holding his breath, but still – it was another step forward.

"So we have." He touched his fingers to her knee, slowly dragging them upwards beneath the breakfast tray. "In fact, my beautiful girl," he said in his chocolate voice, nicer than a brioche even, "we can make further progress this morning, if you like."

She stilled his fingers mid-thigh and swallowed her bit of pastry with difficulty. "Tonight," she said softly. "I want to save it for tonight."

_Tonight_. She had not worked out a particular strategy for their date, no timetable of touching. She hoped he would comply with her demands simply because it was her birthday. They would _do it_. Almost accidentally.

Insert A in slot B. The real thing. Beyond touching and fingers and even mouths. Their slow and steady sexual progression over the summer, his acclimatization to the combined scents of her blood and her arousal, and even his experiences with Consuela and The Bitch from Alaska – all these experiences would lead to this day, Bella's nineteenth birthday.

_Don't make a big deal of it_, Freya had advised at the cafe' after English class yesterday. They had been brutally analyzing each other's essay rewrite, when Bella's new friend had asked out of the blue: 'what's motorcycle-man like in bed?' Bella's hesitant reply had immediately (and embarrassingly) given away her status as a virgin.

_Losing your virginity is, like, the most underwhelming fifteen minutes of your life_, Freya had said. As consolation she had revealed that _it gets better, but you have to get the first time out of the way_.

Bella thought they should just go for it tonight. It would take the pressure off their expectations, and then they could learn slowly how to find their pleasure through the months ahead. She did not want to inform Edward of this plan; he would surely protest and steel himself in preparation. She would surprise and seduce him tonight. Where Tanya failed, Bella would succeed.

&8&8&8&8

Edward checked his phone. Alice had not replied yet; either she had no signal or was fed up with his insecurities. He checked his watch. Bella never took _this_ long to get ready. She was a low-maintenance kind of gal, no Rosalie Hale. He had no idea how Emmett withstood the _waiting._

"Are you coming? Or did you die of hair product asphyxiation?" he called up the stairs, just as she appeared at the top.

"Ah," he said, his breath catching in his throat. "Well, well." His eyes raked over her appreciatively, from top to toe. "I am the luckiest man on the planet," he said, almost to himself.

Bella wore a fine-knit blue sweater top, the kind designed to torture a man: every curve was on display but no skin was showing. Edward eyed the tiny row of pearl buttons in anticipation. The soft silky skirt grazed her knees; was it the shoes that made her legs look so long? She had clearly taken time with her hair and makeup and the result was spectacular. She looked more woman than girl tonight and his heart soared. He was acutely aware of the ring sitting in the front pocket of his suit jacket.

Bella picked her way carefully down the stairs, and for a moment he feared her high heels would be her undoing. She was staring at him with an old familiar expression on her face, one he had seen many times their first year together in Forks. She was just as dazzled by him as he was by her. _Hang on to the handrail,_ he almost said.

"You look beautiful," she whispered when she reached the bottom and stood in his arms.

"That's my line," he scolded, kissing the curve at the base of her neck. "You _are_ beautiful. The loveliest girl, the perfect mate, the sexiest thing to ever to totter in a pair of high heels."

"Really? Do I look sexy?" she ventured shyly. She felt so weird, wearing heels, thigh high stockings and no underwear at all. She was also armed with a few creative ideas and the new leather fingerless glove, arrived yesterday in the mail. She patted her purse, as if to reassure herself she hadn't forgotten it.

"Do you have your mouthguard?" she blurted.

He chuckled. "I do." He patted his _other_ pocket, which contained the slightly larger case with the mouthguard inside. He must be careful not to mix up the two cases. "Perhaps we can drive to the beach after dinner."

She breathed out, as if in relief. "Oh good. I was thinking the same thing. Can we take the Volvo? The new one?"

"The SUV? Really?" he said, surprised. He thought she had rejected it entirely, out of principle. "Whatever you want, Bella-sweet. You're the birthday girl."

"Whatever I want," she repeated, as he opened the back kitchen door, and escorted her through, one forearm under hers, as if she were a princess.

_Whatever I want_.

8&8&8&8&8&8&8&8&

Had to stop, over 5K words already! Didn't mean to tease last time, about the V-card. You'll have to wait next chapter, apologies.


	21. Chapter 21: Birthday

**Finally, another chapter. Real life is a biatch.**

**Thanks to Kristi and Angel for beta-ing during a busy season.**

**Recap because it's been too long between chapters: Irina frets over Tanya's intentions and Bella bonds with a new friend over a disappointing grade on a paper. E and B set out for Bella's birthday dinner, each with wildly different expectations.**

**Chapter 21: Birthday**

"I really like living with you."

"I like living with you, too." Their fingers touched and played on top of the white linen table cloth, even while Bella's other hand was occupied with eating her dinner. A bit of footsie went on too, beneath the table, though it was mostly Bella slipping out of her high heel to rest her foot on his.

Bella thought of her plan and Edward thought of his, and both were nervous. Rejection was a possibility after all. Should Bella drop hints, make double entendres; try to turn him on at the dinner table, as a preamble?

Alternately Edward wanted to make profound declarations of love, offer sweeping and memorable words to pledge his suit. He bounced his knee every now and then, uncharacteristically.

"I'm glad we've stopped fighting," she said suddenly, pausing with her fork midair.

His eyebrows went up. "We've been fighting?"

She smiled. "Well, we _were_. On the drive cross-country. Because you hadn't told me everything about your love life."

"It wasn't a LOVE life until the moment I saw you," he said pointedly.

"Ah, liar. The moment you saw me you wanted to eat me."

"And I'd like to eat you still." The corner of his mouth twitched and she knew he wasn't referring to her blood. He dipped his head, laughing softly, and pushed his food around with his fork.

"Then we fought about you changing your major from English to Physical Therapy."

"Yes, yes," Edward scoffed. "And that has turned out okay. Except that I miss you all day long." He rubbed his thumb in circles on her hand.

"Then we fought about you beating off without me."

"Um, a little louder," he said. "I don't think they heard you at table eight."

Bella giggled and took another bite of risotto, just as her cell phone made a faint, distinct noise in her purse. _Jake_, she thought with slight irritation. While she had been expecting his birthday wishes all day, she had no desire to hear his one-track diatribe this evening. She had half a mind to text Jake within an hour of losing her virginity. _I did it and I'm still here_, she would say. That would shut him up.

"Your phone," prompted Edward.

"Later," she said firmly. "What were we talking about?"

"Arguing. Eating. Beating," quipped Edward. "Would you believe Carlisle and Esme argue about once a decade? They are models of good communication."

"Wow. Once a decade," she repeated, marvelling. "That sounds..." _Boring,_ she almost said. "But look at Emmett and Rosalie."

"They argue almost daily," agreed Edward, shaking his head. "And love each other fiercely."

"And you're a bit like Rosalie."

Edward stiffened, appalled. "I am not. I'm nothing like Rosalie."

"I think maybe you are," said Bella, taking a sip of her Diet Coke to hide her amusement.

"Yeah, whatever," he groused, pretending to take a sip of his, because they were being watched. Esme had told him the same thing before, but he would forever deny it.

"If I could hear your mind," he mused, threading his fingers through hers, "would we argue less? Or more? I'd know exactly what you want. No assumptions, no guesswork."

Oh, if only he could read her mind just tonight! Did every human male suffer such apprehension before a proposal of marriage? _Call me, Alice, goddamn it. Give me a green light. _

"After a whole century together," she said, marvelling at the idea, "we'll be able to guess whatthe otherwants, no mind-reading necessary." Bella cocked her head to look at him. "I'll bet I can guess what you want even now."

"Perhaps." He narrowed his eyes. He wasn't sure he wanted her to guess.

Bella leaned forward, staring into his amber eyes. He drew forward and met her intensity.

"You waaant..." she said in a sing-song voice. Bella put her hand to her temple, like a sideshow psychic. "You want to know if I'm wearing purple beneath this sweater."

He leaned back and laughed. "Okay, guilty." It took all his willpower _not_ to look for her nipples just then. "So... _are you_?"

She ignored him. "You waaant...that waiter to stop staring at you."

"Yeah, correct," he said, his laugher dying on his lips. "You're hardly mind-reading though," Edward countered. "He's a homosexual in denial and his thoughts are written all over his face."

"He is?" Bella whispered, her eyes darting automatically to the waiter, who continued to stare at Edward with pained, half-lidded eyes. "They are," she agreed, a little shocked. "Isn't that...violating? Like eeww-violating?"

"Yes," said Edward wearily. "It happens, not infrequently. Move on, please."

"Okay, sorry," she said, squeezing his hand sympathetically. "How about..." She leaned forward again. "You want to tell me something tonight. Something that makes you nervous."

"Yes. Sort of." His smile was tight. "Hey, you're pretty good. Are you ready to switch plates?" He wanted to change the subject.

"It's not something BIG, is it? Like Irina is going to study at Dartmouth. And live with us. And bring two boyfriends with her?"

"Irina isn't coming to live with us, no boyfriends," he said carefully. So carefully that it made Bella a little nervous herself.

&8&8&8

Edward turned down a rough gravel road where there were less likely to be other night-time beachgoers, and pulled right up onto the beach. The tide was out, the surf a gentle, repeating _swoosh_, the moon a mere sliver, hanging low in the sky. Yes, maybe this would be the time and the place. He turned off the ignition. "Would you care to walk on the beach?" He glanced at her shoes. "Or perhaps I should carry you. We could sit on the blanket."

"I'll take my shoes and stockings off." _Carefully._ She didn't want to flash Edward obscenely –not yet.

"Whatever you want," he said for the umpteenth time that day, gesturing expansively.

Bella leaned forward and pulled off one shoe, then the other. Slowly, and without looking at Edward, she raised her skirt halfway up one thigh and found the top of her stocking, hooked her thumbs under the stretchy band and just as slowly, pushed it down her right leg.

"That's...uh...that's hot," admitted Edward.

Bella bit back a laugh, momentarily ruining her vixen act. She'd never heard Edward use that phrase in_ that_ way before. She started her palms up her other thigh.

"I'll get the blanket from the back," he said hastily, then he exited the car like a shot.

Bella smiled. This was going to work.

An hour later they were perched on a pier, immersed in full-on, soppy, romantic mode.

"Bella," he murmured, between kisses. "My darling birttthday girl. My life. My love."

She sat sideways on his lap, wrapped in a plaid blanket, with her arms folded against his chest. The cool sea breeze batted occasionally at her cheeks, but she felt sheltered and cozy in his marble arms. He had been plying soft, slow kisses to her neck and jaw and whispering slurred (blue-teeth) words of devotion in her ear. Bella looked up at the rising moon and felt woozy and deliciously achy. Her seduction plan suddenly felt like a cheap trick.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." He never got tired of saying it.

"I love you, too," she whispered. "More than anything. You are my noon, my midnight, my talk, my song."

"Ah, who'ss spouting poetry now?" he murmured against her cheek.

"The English major in your arms. Your human girl, your future vampire. Your forever-lover." She kissed him fiercely, threading her fingers up into his hair, pushing her tongue into his cool mouth. She poured her poetry into her kiss and her hands.

"Forever," he agreed, pulling back to look at her. "I will devote myselff to you Bella, for all of my existence. I promise you thiss." He leaned back against the pier post and slid his hand inside his jacket. "Bella...I...I..." he faltered.

And his phone sounded.

"A text from Alice," said Bella incredulously, recognizing the chime. "What terrible timing – and she knows it, too."

Edward was stock still, his face frozen, his hand in his jacket.

"Ignore it," pleaded Bella.

Edward exhaled slowly; he withdrew his hand. "Why so late, Alice," he muttered, and he whipped out his cell phone from some other pocket.

"What is it?" said Bella quickly.

He didn't answer; he just peered blankly at his phone. Bella took his wrist and pulled the phone toward her.

_DONT go there. RLY. Im so srry, Alice xx_

"Don't go where?" asked Bella curiously. "Was there somewhere else you were going to take me?"

"No...that's not what she meant," Edward said, his voice low and ragged. "I mean...yeah. Somewhere."

"Edward," she said, alarmed at the expression on his face. "You look like your puppy just died."

"My puppy...pardon?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Yes." He blinked a few times and put his phone back in his pocket. He turned to look searchingly at her face. _Why do you not want to marry me_?

"We can go there another time, Edward," she tried to soothe him. "Really. I've had a wonderful birthday. I don't need any elaborate surprises."

"Okay," he said quietly. "Another time." He nodded, pursing his lips. "We have forever, don't we? Another time. I can handle that." He mustered a faint smile.

"Should we go back to the car?" she said tentatively. "It's getting cold." Alice had completely spoiled the mood – not for the first time either—and Bella was determined to reclaim it.

He scooped her up without speaking. Inside of four seconds she was in the front seat of the SUV and he was standing on the driver's side, removing his mouthguard and putting it in its case. He tossed it in the back along with his jacket and a gruff 'won't need that anymore'.

"_Wait_," she exclaimed, as he was shutting the door. "Can we stay here a bit longer? Talk?"

"Oh." He put the keys on the dashboard and turned to face her. "All right."

"How about..." She jerked her head toward the back seat. "How about back there?"

"The back seat. Really."

"Yeah," she said. "We can't exactly snuggle with this overgrown cupholder in the way."

He looked at her for a moment, trying to summon even a tenth of the elation he felt five minutes ago. "True." Suddenly he was in the back and he took her upper arms in his hands and hoisted her over the console, blanket and all. Bella squealed, trying to keep her skirt down.

She scooted up under his arm and arranged the blanket over them. Then she smoothed his shirt and tie, slipped her arms around his waist and lifted her face expectantly.

It was her 'kiss-me' expression. Edward snorted half-heartedly. "I thought you wanted to _talk_."

"Well, that too."

"I put away the mouthguard."

"Then just try to keep your mouth closed," she teased. She stretched up to kiss him. He closed his eyes and let her come to him.

"Oh Edward," she said softly, brushing her lips to his. "You're upset."

He nodded, his brows scrunched together.

"Was it important to you?"

He nodded again.

"Can we go there this weekend instead?"

"It's not actually a _place_. It was... somewhere new for us." He sounded sad, distant.

She rose up on her knees to kiss his eyelids. "I can take you somewhere new. Make you feel better." She ran the backs of her fingers over his jaw, caressing him.

_Or worse. You can lift me up and cast me to despair, Bella, all in the same sentence._

"I'm pathetic, you know," he said, letting his head fall back against the seat. "I'm at your mercy."

"Yes," Bella whispered. Tonight felt as if they were on the edge of some precipice, some threshold of their new beginning. She had sensed it in Edward, too, when he had declared his love with such passion on the beach. _I'm nineteen!_ she cheered inside. Bella had left parents and home behind, her awkward high school persona now a thing of the past. She had made a shocking C grade on her first Dartmouth essay and survived. She was practically living with the man she loved; she was sleeping in his bed.

There was one last rite of passage that would complete their love, that would make her a woman. Bella would step over Alice's call _interruptus_ and leap into the void. She discarded Freja's advice about making their first time casual and fun. She would soothe her man, stroke him, excite him and take him to new heights of intimacy.

Bella threw one knee over him and straddled his lap, acutely conscious of her lack of undergarments. She stroked his face, brushing her lips here and there, while surreptitiously unbuttoning the tiny buttons of her sweater top. She put her mouth on the cleft of his chin and sucked, thinking of his mouth on her the night he ripped her nightgown and made her shriek with pleasure.

His eyes stayed closed, his head still back against the seat and his arms spread across the back. Only his breathing seemed to change: deeper and a little faster. She hoped he wouldn't hold his breath tonight.

"I love you, Edward."

"Do you, Bella?" he murmured. "I need to hear it tonight. Tell me again."

"I love you, Edward. I want you to feel loved."

Bella saw his nostrils flare. Could he smell her excitement or was that a sign of his desire? His hands moved to her hips and he gently pulled her against him. Ah, yes – there was movement below.

Bella leant to the side, reaching for her purse which she had strategically placed on the back seat when they left the restaurant.

"Be still," he groaned, her movements making the venom rush to his groin all the faster.

He opened his eyes and lifted his head to find his Bella donning a leather glove on her left hand. A palmless, fingertip-less glove, padded at the wrist and knuckles.

"I'll use the bare hand when you're fully hard," she said.

"What the...?" he said, swallowing. "Please," he whispered, struggling against his rising desire_._ _Please no_, is what he meant. Edward's hopes had been shattered by Alice's tenth -hour text; he wanted to be reassured, not aroused.

Ultimately, however, Edward was a man with a beautiful young woman straddling his thighs. When his eyes fell on Bella's gaping sweater top and the long-dwelled-upon purple bra, the veiled nipple and the swell of soft flesh, filling the fabric and wobbling as she worked her fingers into the glove, he could only _want_. The ache of disappointment in his chest turned to need, a need for evidence of her feelings for him.

"God," he uttered, reaching up to brush his thumb once over her nipple. "Bella-leave-me-with-some-dignity-please," he said, so quickly she didn't catch it. He scrabbled for the mouthguard case on the seat and soon had the Kevlar back in place. He jerked her sweater off her shoulders, wrapped his fingers around her back, and pulled her breast to his mouth, his tongue dragging straight across her nipple.

Bella arched her back, crying out and trying to keep her own head clear. She reached behind her, feeling for the inside of his thigh, and moved her gloved hand up along his trouser seam, seeking. She found his balls, but was so distracted by what Edward's tongue was doing to the underside of her breast that she couldn't think what to do next.

"Can't...reach." Bella pitched to the side and his mouth followed, then they were half lying across the bench seat, his arm keeping her perched on the edge.

She shifted down his torso. Ah, sweet access! She rubbed his still-growing erection through his dress pants and he moaned noisily against her forehead. The new leather glove was a dream, like a second skin. Bella unbuckled and unbuttoned him one-handed. Pushing down his pants wasn't as easy.

"Please," she rasped. "Take it out."

"What?" he said dazedly. "No...no, it's _your_ birthday. I am giving, not getting."

"_Giving_ brings me pleasure," she insisted. She slipped her fingers inside the placket of his boxers, with her thumb on the outside and her fingers around his flesh, and gave it a gentle squeeze. THIS, she thought giddily, is a SO much bigger than a super-plus tampon. Or his finger. She had trouble imagining such a thing fitting inside her.

"Fuck, fuck, the rule, the rule," he said, through rough breaths. He was referring to that damn, cock-blocking _one-person-undressed-at-a time_ rule.

"But two naked halves equal one person," she coaxed, as she tugged on his waistband. "You're still in a shirt and tie," she giggled – there was a touch of hysteria to it. "Please, it's my _birthday_."

He warred internally for a full seven seconds, while she drove him insane with the contrasting textures of the glove, her warm fingertips and his cotton knit underwear against his cock. When she whispered 'You're ready for the other hand' – her bare one – he had no willpower to say no.

He sat upright again and lifted his hips to pull down his trousers and boxers. Bella made a cry of triumph and scrambled over to the end of the bench, trying to find the lever.

"Whatareyoudoing?" he asked breathlessly. Then the rear bench back fell back several inches.

"Reclining us."

"Oh." When had she sussed that one out? Most SUV bench seats folded forward, not back. Then she reached for the seatbelt and drew it across him, buckling him in and knocking against his cock in the process, which stood up comically from between his shirttails.

"To prevent a Consuela –type concussion," she said briskly. She was back atop him before he could think of a response, her knees astride his waist.

She cupped her hands to his face and smiled beatifically into his eyes. He couldn't help but gape back in bewilderment. "You're wonderful, did you know?" she said, planting a quick wet kiss on his lips.

Edward was speechless. It was all out of control, this heady, hedonistic backseat madness. She slid backwards a bit, and reached behind her to grasp his cock with her right hand, flesh on flesh.

"Oh, yessss," he said, though he meant to say _no, no, it feels too good_. Her breasts were bare now, since he had pulled open the sash tie a good two minutes ago, and they bounced and wobbled as she rhythmically stroked him.

Her face – God, her face! Such ardor, such beauty and determination. He could not drag his eyes away, but he purposefully removed his hands (and their lethal power) and put them on the seat, as far away from her as he could. His self-control was leaking away and he knew it.

She slid backward a bit further, lifting her skirt. His cock would keep hitting the cleft of her ass, made all the worse (or better) by the fact that she would occasionally press it there and just rub the underside of his penis with her fingers. Her silky skirt tickled his thighs and dragged on the tip of his cock; her wetness soaked through to his shirttails, filling the air with her scent. Each ass-to-dick contact was announced with a whimper and a loll of her head. He didn't recall the purple underwear being a thong, but her ass felt bare and slick with his pre-ejaculate, which she had spread with her thumb. It was all unbearably erotic.

"It's too much," he choked out. He fought the urge to thrust, to grasp her hips and smash her into him, to plunge and penetrate. "We've got to stop, Bella-sweet." His voice cracked. "Now."

"No," she cried. "No, no, no."

He caught her wrist, stilled it. "We must. I'm going to...I might..." I _might hurt you_.

She opened her eyes. "Oh, not that. Not yet." She rose up on her knees and repositioned herself. "Help me," she rasped, taking his cock in her hand. "Help me figure this out."

"Careful," he gasped. He took her hips in his hands to push her back even as she was lifting her pelvis up.

"BELLA. Where's your underwear?" He could feel it, or rather the lack of it. No string, no strap, no purple tie sash. He lifted up her skirt and sure enough, there it was, her pussy in all its native glory, just a penetration away from his cock. The oldest, most natural duo in the world, a penis and its receptacle. "WHAT THE HELL? Underwear is our last line of defence, you know that!"

"_Please_," she said, her voice hoarse. "Don't stop now."

"Jesus! NO." He pushed her off entirely, sending her splayed into the corner.

"I'm ready," she pleaded, instinctively pulling her knees back together. "You're ready. We love one another. I'm NINETEEN and I'm desperate for you."

"BUT..." he spluttered. "Here? Right now?"

"Yes, Edward. Yes, yes!" said Bella fervently. "The timing is right."

"We're in the back seat _of a car!_" he said. "A Volvo, no less! We're not losing our virginity _here_."

"But we won't fit in the back seat of the Vanquish!" she said. "Why do you think I asked for the SUV?"

"What, you've been _planning_ this tonight? Jesus Christ." He pulled his boxers and trousers back up.

"Don't," she whispered. Visibly, she deflated in the corner of the car.

"You were just going to go for it, without discussing it with me first? What, just slip my dick in there, and think I wouldn't notice?"

"Yes...no," she faltered, her voice warbling. "It seemed so _right_ tonight. We need to get past our first time, to cut through all the tension and expectation. If I had warned you, you'd have said no. I thought you'd be glad afterwards."

"'Get past our first time'?" he repeated. "You make it sound like a trial, a chore to endure, rather than celebrate."

"Not a chore, no. Don't you see?" she persisted. "You've anticipated this moment for nearly _ninety long years_. Maybe you've built it up in your mind to something unrealistic, something... you know... even _more_ amazing than a hand job in the shower."

"What? Are you kidding me?" He gave a mirthless laugh. "It will beat a hand job by a wide margin, I assure you."

"Yeah, but you'd ramp up your expectations even more by getting an amazing hotel room in Paris and sprinkling the bed with rose petals and turning on Mozart—"

"_And_?" he said. "You'd prefer the back seat of a Volvo?"

"What if it all turns out to be a disappointment, an anti-climax? What if you organize some expensive, romantic setting and I..." Bella's voice dropped to a whisper. "What if I can't make it good for you?"

"Holding you...being inside you?" He touched his fingers to hers. "Your breath on my shoulder and arms around me? How could it possibly not be good for me? I'm far more anxious about _your_ experience, believe me."

"Then let's do it," said Bella softly, desperately. "Now. Please. I just want to know what it is like. To experience it together."

"NO." He withdrew his hand. _Curiosity isn't reason enough_, he almost said. "This is not a safe place."

"_What._ " She indicated the deserted beach through the window. "There's no one here to stop us. Jake isn't going to come bounding over a sand dune. Tanya's in Russia, not the Atlantic."

"The construction isn't finished."

Bella slapped her hand to her face in bewilderment. "What does the construction have to do with _anything_?"

He turned his head slowly to look at her. "Isn't something missing from this scenario here?" he said in a low voice. "Something important?"

"There's you and there's me. I've taken safety precautions: a glove, a mouthguard, a seatbelt," said Bella reasonably. "There is love. Mutual respect and generosity."

"Yes, but..." He took her left wrist and held it up as his answer.

"The glove."

"Not _that_." He made a noise of exasperation and began to peel the glove off, a little more rapidly than she'd like.

"Don't rip it," she fretted. "It's custom made for my hand."

Edward jerked her unsheathed hand up in the air again. "This." He was pointing at...her fingers?

"Jesus, Bella, you don't have a clue what I'm talking about." He dropped her hand and turned his face away.

"_No, I don't_," she snapped, rapidly reaching the end of her patience. She closed up her sweater top, the purple bra sashes dangling beneath the hem. "You're going to have to communicate it to me."

"A ring!" His voice cracked, like the seventeen year old boy that he inhabited. "An engagement ring. A commitment to honor you and love you, forsaking all others, until death."

She stared him at in utter disbelief. "Tell me that you are joking," she said in a low voice. "Please."

He stared back at her, his face equally incredulous. "Not in the least."

"I am going to _become a vampire_. Isn't that commitment enough?"

"Are you saying..." He could barely get the words out. "That you _don't_ want to marry me?"

"The question should be _why get married at all_? It's a totally human convention. A meaningless legal status that didn't stop my mom leaving my dad, not for a second." Bella shook her finger to emphasize bitter words. "Not for a _moment._ If you think of all the quickie divorces, all the infidelity, all the loveless marriages out there, then I'd say marriage is an insult to our love! Our love is better, higher, and more meaningful without it."

He sat there, his back against the door, his trousers half open, his erection history. He could barely breathe. How could he have got it so wrong? Didn't women want to be surprised with the proposal? Wasn't it why they called it 'popping' the question? He had assumed...he had assumed so much.

"Since WHEN did marriage become a prerequisite to sex?" she went on, waving her hand. "This is the first time you have ever mentioned this. EVER. You didn't mention it when you put your fingers inside me or...or your _tongue_! How is that a big leap from putting your penis there? And now you're telling me you want to be _married_ first?"

"Engaged," he answered simply. "I wanted to be engaged." Edward turned to stare out at the ocean. Despite the darkness, he could see the waves, breaking on the shore, in a pattern, a wild and powerful force, but yes, a pattern that eventually repeated itself. He felt his heart was being tossed about in those waves, his old-fashioned dreams tumbling over in disarray. He loved her no less, of course. He simply didn't know her as well as he thought. He had anticipated all the wrong things, in all the wrong order. She wanted to _get sex over with_, not _get engaged_.

"How is it that we are so far apart on this issue?" he said grimly.

"I don't know. But we are," she sniffled. "God. I wanted to seduce you tonight." And she began to cry quietly into her hands.

Edward took out his mouthguard and put it away. He zipped and buttoned and rebuckled. "You wound me, Bella," he said. "You cut me to the quick."

Then he was in the front seat, starting the engine. Bella adjusted her clothing, wiped her face, crawled back into the front seat and buckled up.

"Home," he said, in a voice as sad as the foghorn.

&8&8&8&8&8&8&

WILL THEY EVER DO IT? Of course.

IS THIS STORY WRAPPING UP? Yes and no. We haven't seen the last of Tanya.

WHY ARE YOU SO SLOW? It's been a rough semester. My apologies. I hope to finish the next chapter over Christmas. Thanks for sticking with it, readers, and thanks to those of you who write reviews, whether long and detailed or short. Feel free to complain about how slow I am in a PM or review. You guys are the WIN.


	22. Chapter 22: Blonde Visit Number Two

**Thanks to Kristi and Angel for doing beta duties during their Christmas vacations! You're lovely, ladies!**

**Chapter 22: Blonde Visit Number Two**

"Your gift," he said, without expression. On the table he set down her birthday present, wrapped and ribboned in periwinkle blue. Edward and Bella stood awkwardly on either side of the table, with the present between them. Edward's shirt and tie were miraculously unwrinkled. He had tucked his shirttails back in. Bella was a mess: makeup, hair, dress.

She stared glassily at the rectangular box. It would be a nightgown, probably elegant and expensive. Something a woman would wear only briefly, before taking it off and making love.

Oh, the irony. The terrible _tease_.

"Okay," she said, her voice equally dull, slipping a finger at last under the flap at the corner and pulling it open. The inner tissue was sealed with a gold metallic label: _Bjϋrssen, Stockholm._

Frowning, she lifted the pajamas by the shoulders. They were long johns. Long sleeved and long-legged, in two pieces. Covering all her skin. Her virtuous, virginal skin.

"Granny pajamas," she said bitterly.

"_Hardly,"_ he hissed. He gripped the back of the chair.

"I don't think they'll fit." The pajamas looked about four sizes too small, as if they were for a child.

"They'll fit," he insisted.

"Okay. Thanks." She dropped it back into the box. She put the lid back on and looked at him.

"So that's it," said Edward. He could have been referring to any number of things.

They stared at one another.

"I'm going to bed," she said.

"I'm going to hunt," he said.

Edward was twenty-two miles from the house when he realized that he wasn't even hungry. It suddenly struck him that not once, during the passion of their backseat tryst, did he desire her blood.

It was past midnight when Bella picked up her phone to check Jake's message and discovered that it was actually Alice's message.

_Dont push him. 3% chance he wll injure you. B kind. 68% chance you wll hurt him. _

_51% chance you wont pick up this mssge n time. _

&6&6&6&

It was a long and torturous week. Essays and short stories were due (Bella) and mock diagnoses and mid-term practicals began (Edward).

On Monday Bella reported coolly to Freja that the casual back seat idea had been a disaster.

"Back seat?" Freja replied. "I don't remember saying the back seat_?_ Ugh? How unromantic would _that_ be?"

On Tuesday Edward muttered 'you fucking cheat' at a classmate whom he knew had plagiarized the essay on _Medicare and the Elderly_ right off the internet. That afternoon he snarled for no observable reason at the electrician who inwardly referred to him as 'Mr. Cuntlen', scaring the man so badly that he walked off the job.

Edward re-evaluated his behaviour with Bella and berated himself, over and over again, as was his long-ingrained habit. In a late night phone conversation, Esme reminded him that he was in love with a nineteen year old girl. Young people, said Esme, often thought their own passionate opinion was the true and correct one. "_Like black and white_. She'll spend the next fifty years slowly realizing how grey the world is.

"And don't forget, Edward, to ask her how she feels. About everything, not just love and literature. Politics, the environment, social policies. Getting to know her _without mind-reading_ is a wonderful journey, particularly as she matures. You'll both change each other, through discussion, debate, education. Through love."

Edward wondered if it would take fifty years to change Bella's opinion of marriage. Tuesday night, with a heavy heart, he hid the ring in the back of a desk drawer beneath a pile of stock reports.

Bella remained stubborn and egocentric, shoring up her modern viewpoint with statistics about successful cohabitation among twenty- and thirty-somethings that she found on the internet. She ignored the statistics that disproved her opinion.

She nursed her wounded pride, declaring that she would make no further physical advances; Edward would have to come to her. Clearly he would not be seduced into losing his virginity, neither by Tanya nor Bella.

On Wednesday night, they lay among books and notes and pillows in the Swan Study Centre, close but not touching, his head by her feet and vice versa, both only looking when they knew the other wasn't looking.

On Thursday he made her dinner, his best yet, a velvety eggplant and pasta dish with a crisp side salad and ciabatta. "Thank you," she said, meekly.

That night he slipped back into their bed, when she was fast asleep. He spent the hours in close examination of her face, a privilege he had been denied for over five days now. She snuggled to him without knowing it and said his name in her sleep.

The last day of their fight was Friday and Bella came trudging slowly up the front walk, with a new postcard from Tanya in her hand. St. Petersburg.

_A mortal, few of days and full of trouble, comes up like a flower and withers, flees like a shadow and does not last. _– Job 14: 1-14

Great. Now Tanya was quoting God.

Bitch, there will be no fleeing. Bella could have escaped to her dorm every night, could have avoided his stoic posture and wounded eyes. But she hadn't.

She crumpled the postcard in her hand.

Bella paused when music met her ears. She often heard Edward's powerful Bose speakers long before she reached the front door, broadcasting jazz or sometimes Chopin or Bob Dylan. But this was different. Two of the workmen sat on a stack of pallets, perfectly still. They, too, were listening.

The grand piano had arrived! And Edward was playing. Something warm welled up inside her, and she realized she was pleased for him.

Bella moved slowly over to the side of the house; she would enter through the construction rather than disturb him.

It was a passionate piece. Difficult and rich. She'd heard it before but couldn't put a name to it. She moved quietly around the swimming pool, which looked complete, but was full of murky green water and copper leaves. She stepped through the French doors, into the new bedroom.

They all stood still, the workmen, seemingly mesmerized. These were mostly rough and ready guys, or so Bella had thought, but not a single one fidgeted or resumed his work.

The foreman Nick caught her eye and raised a finger in hello. "He's full of surprises, your fellow," he whispered, when she came to stand beside him.

_Romeo and Juliet_, that was it. Tchaichovsky. The piece went on, rising and falling, filled with longing, beauty and heartache. She took off her shoes and wiped her eyes, cognizant of the workmen's eyes upon her, all taking the rare chance to observe the pretty girlfriend who was always present but never entered their workspace.

Bella pushed aside the makeshift dustcloth door and slid through, padding softly along in sock feet. The autumn sun was low in the sky and Bella followed its gleam on the wooden floor to the former dining room. Edward's back was to the window, so that his diamond-hands scattered the sunlight intermittently as he moved them across the keys, and his white shirt glowed an orangey yellow. His hair wore a copper halo. He raised his eyes to hers.

Edward tilted his head at the bench: _come sit beside me_. She perched on the edge, because he needed the room to put his entire body into the roll and bend of the final stanzas. When the last note had sounded, faded and died he turned to her and they embraced.

"I'm sorry!" they both said, as the workmen applauded in the next room.

"I'm not giving up, you know," he said into her hair.

"Neither am I."

&8&8&8&8&8

"Damn it." Bella struggled with her backpack, digging for her phone and trying not to slip on the English building's steps, dusted with the first snowfall of the season. "Wait wait..._ hello_?"

"Bells."

Bella stiffened. "Jake."

"Don't hang up! I wanna talk."

"I TOLD you last month, it's none of your business. I'm still here, I'm in one piece." She sighed_. I'm still a virgin_. "So why are you calling?"

"Because...I need your help. His help."

There was a moment of silence. "You've got to be kidding me. After hounding me for months about my choices. After predicting my maiming or death by sex with a vampire and simultaneously threatening the Cullens if they changed me... now you want _Edward's help_?"

Bella hung up.

He texted her: _Ive imprinted. _

_Oh._ Well, thank God.

_Congratulations_ she texted back. _I'm really pleased for you. _

His reply was immediate. _Its why Ive hounded you. Cuz I KNOW._

God, does no one use apostrophes in their texts? _You're not making sense,_ she texted back. _You know WHAT exactly?_

_How violent sex is with a vampire. I was 2 ashamed be4 to tell u. Youda called me a hypocrite._

Jacob imprinted on a vampire? Had sex with one? In Cullen territory? Bella's mouth dropped open. What about the Pack? What about the conflicting smells? The _hatred_? Unless...no, no, not a Denali. No...

Bella pressed the buttons with force. "Wow, Jake. Just... wow. Is this vampire someone the Cullens know?

"Nope." He was almost defiant in his answer. "She was here checking them out though. Guess what, she's a vegetarian too."

And a really big liar. "I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll help me find her. Charlie won't help me. Mrs. Cullen won't help me."

"Find her? What, she's gone?"

"YES. Gone." He let out a little moan. "She was gone the next day. Through the water, and no trail left behind. But Bells, I just got a letter! The most awesome, sexy letter EVER."

"Ugh, no details please. Tell me: why do you think Edward can help you? There's nothing we can do from here."

"Hah, but you _can_. The letter was postmarked _Boston_."

8&8&8&8&8

Bella walked slowly up the walk, thinking of all Jake had reported and the twisted turn of events in his life.

There was no car in the drive, other than the usual builder's vehicles, and she found the front door ajar. She entered quietly and came across a slightly disturbing scene. In Edward's arms was a tall blonde, sobbing into his crisp blue shirt and mewling hysterically in French. Even worse, Edward was responding in French, murmuring words that sounded like pure chocolate seduction over the girl's blonde head.

The woman's legs went on forever and disappeared under a very short miniskirt. Her hair was a perfect sheet of platinum but her bare feet were filthy. A backpack lay discarded on the floor.

Edward saw Bella approaching and gave her an apologetic look of...resignation? The woman lifted her head from Edward's shoulder, sniffed the air, turned around and cried "Bellaaaa!"

"Oh. _Kate_."

Kate Denali came shuffling forward, her arms open, weeping tearlessly and talking ninety miles an hour in French. Or was it Russian now? Bella began to back up. _This is Tanya's sister_.

"English, Kate, speak English," said Edward.

"Ohmigod, you look so beautiful, Bella, beautiful beautiful Bella, and you are so lucky to have each other. Love is a many splendiful thing and you must _cherish_ it, and nurture it and _keep it as long as you can_, understand you?"

She took Bella's shoulders, bent her knees a bit (Kate was very tall for a woman), and said, very seriously, "You must cherish the time you have together, beautiful Bella. It is precious. Do not waste a minute. PRECIOUS."

Then she burst into tears.

8&8&8&8&8&

Short chapter. I have to get in that writing time where I can!


	23. Chapter 23: The Unspeakable Topic

**Chapter 23: The unspeakable topic of marriage**

"Then not a peep for months, until her letter arrived," whispered Bella. "Postmarked Boston."

Edward was momentarily speechless. "But...but the _stench _of it," he said, incredulous.

"Jake wasn't _transformed_," she replied softly, rolling her eyes. "They did it underwater, apparently. One of the islands off Strawberry Bay. Too far for the pack to interfere in time." Bella left out the part about Jacob's broken ribs, the biting and the growling. How the vampire almost drowned him. It was the best experience of his life, he'd said enthusiastically. It wasn't lost on Bella that Jake had lost his virginity to a vampire before she had.

"You don't have to whisper, Sweet. This room is soundproofed." Edward tapped on the heavy, recently installed door. They had gone into the new bedroom to talk, while Kate cried in front of the television. _Dancing with the Stars._ Her choice.

"Oh." She suddenly realized that she couldn't hear the television or the occasional cathartic sob.

"In anticipation of future family visits," he said perfunctorily. "What kind of blonde hair? Did he give you a more distinctive description? Tall, short? Birthmarks?"

"Not really. He mostly went on about her 'awesome bod' and 'the face of perfection'. Long blonde hair, he'd said, but pulled up. Eyes a dark molasses sort of colour."

"Really. Not black...or red."

"Yes, really. Sounds like one of the Denalis, right? A Denali underfed. Unless it was a random vampire."

"Random vampires are rarely vegetarian," said Edward, rubbing his chin. "Tanya had gone to Russia. My guess would be Irina."

_Holy shit,_ he thought. Irina, who probably passed through Boston on her way to New York. Irina, who likes young men, who likes a challenge. Was she so irresponsible as to seduce a teenage werewolf?

"Irina?" Bella tipped her head toward the door. "Why not Kate? I mean, what is she so upset about?"

"She and her mate are splitting up." He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut in a grimace.

"Her mate," repeated Bella. "Did she say who it was?"

"_Jeremy_. Her mate." His eyes flew open again. "I'm sure someone has mentioned him before."

"There are so many boyfriends; I get them mixed up." Bella twisted her fingers together, fretting. "Is it possible Kate had more than one..uh, lover?"

"No." Edward gave a little snort.

"Or she was unfaithful? Before they split?"

"No. She's a vampire, Bella," he said, almost indignant. "It wasn't _Kate_."

"Okay, okay," said Bella, holding her palms up . "Esme was no help at all, Jake had said." Bella said this last part with a touch of irritation. Esme was always so generous, so helpful. Couldn't she have at least shown Jake an old photo?

"That's not surprising." Edward shrugged. "It's our default defense mode: deny all knowledge. Protect our family and our extended family, however inconsiderate they may be."

"_Inconsiderate_?" retorted Bella, with a short laugh.

"Yeah. Irina knows how fragile our alliance is with the Quileutes."

"It's worse than inconsiderate...it's a _crime_!"

"He's of age, legally," reminded Edward. "But I agree."

"Jake says he'simprinted. "

"He hasn't," said Edward firmly. "It's just _the gift_ at work."

"The gift." Bella resisted a second eye-roll. "So...is there any chance Irina would return his feelings?" The idea unsettled Bella. Jake and Irina? A couple? It seemed a ridiculous combination.

Edward made a noise of derision. "IF it's Irina, then NO. Not a single thought of Jacob Black crossed her mind when she visited in September. If it's any other vampire, passing through, then... NO."

"But Edward," scolded Bella, impatient with his prejudice, "why write a letter afterwards then? You're always telling me that vampires love unconditionally. Wholly, completely!"

"Ah," he said, softly, putting his hands on her cheeks and raising her face. "Either a vampire is profoundly in love...or is just – " he kissed her lips – "fucking."

8&8&8&

Bella emerged slowly from sleep, coaxed by the heavenly smells of something warm and baked. Something else tugged at her brain, though, and she lay buried in the down comforter for a full ten minutes before she realised that tug was _silence_. No workmen's hammers, no Good Morning television, no muffled sobs. It was Tuesday, her only day with no classes. She counted on her fingers, under the covers.

Six days now. Six days of_ Kate_ in the house.

Kate and her long, long legs that she never covered up, despite the freezing temperatures outside. Kate and her mesmerizing hair colour, the sort of platinum-blonde that half of California had been trying to emulate since 1925. Even when crying, Kate perched on the sofa like a supermodel waiting for the photographer's first click.

_Kate, sister of Tanya. _

Kate the spy? Kate the subversive agitator? Kate the innocent, wounded lover? Some of one and a bit of the other?

Perhaps she had finally stopped crying; Bella could hear nothing at all.

Bella opened one eye at Edward's pillow but did not expect to find him there. He was back to his middle of the night activities: cleaning the floors, 'managing the European portfolio' (which meant a mess of foreign newspapers and financial reports on the floor the next morning), and exploring the mountains around Hanover – probably dragging along the ever-weeping Kate, as her irises remained an unchanging gold. She did not want to think about it, the two of them alone together in the woodland. Bella reached over and pulled his pillow toward her, hugging it possessively.

Two nights ago, Bella had backed right up against his perfectly hard erection when she had been awakened by it pressing against her ass. He hadn't said a word (because Kate could hear them perhaps?), but had reached around to slip his fingers beneath her flannels, down the front of her underwear. He had brought her slowly and tortuously to a silent, shuddering climax. When she had turned around to embrace him, to offer reciprocation, the look in his eyes stopped her cold. Beneath his small, lopsided smile, he wore that same wounded expression that had followed the weeks after her birthday. Aware that Kate would pick up every word of their conversation, she had said nothing, but had cradled his head against her, hoping that every stroke of his hair and his neck would convey her love for him. She did not confront him the next day; he seemed himself again- and God,_ what if brought up that M-word? _

In fact, the subject of their relationship never seemed to come up anymore. Oh, they had other topics to discuss, which often kept Bella up well into the early hours, usually on the floor pillows downstairs, usually touching and nudging and play-wrestling when their arguments became snarky. Communism in China, democracy in developing countries, affirmative action, states' rights and whether Nixon really just needed to remove that stick out of his ass.

Edward had shown up one day in the darkened auditorium of her 200-strong American Government class. After terrifying the adjacent occupant out of his seat with a quiet, reverberating "MOVE", Edward settled in low next to Bella and slipped his fingers between hers, while she grinned and scribbled notes with her other hand. Since then he appeared regularly, and Edward and Bella's discussions had become more focused on the wider landscape of life and a little less on themselves.

Maybe it was avoidance. Discuss Marxism instead of marriage.

Bella could readily admit that college was opening and stretching her mind. Edward's seemed immovable. Ever fixed and old-fashioned. "Old school conservative," she muttered aloud, climbing out of bed.

A handwritten note on Edward's pillow told her 'Breakfast for you downstairs. I'm off to class. Love you, E.' Bella wondered if Kate was out too, or if she was simply taking a momentary break from her tears-and-television.

Downstairs, Bella made coffee and devoured a fat, fresh blueberry muffin. "Oh, Edward, you're awesome," she moaned, popping a bit of the muffin top in her mouth. She picked her phone off the counter and texted him the same, with some silly hearts thrown in for good measure. _I PROMISE NOT TO TELL EMMETT YOU'VE TAKEN UP BAKING. _ Smiley face.

"Can I have a cup?"

"Eeeah!" Bella shrieked, knocking over her mug. "Kate. I didn't realize you were here!"

"Yes, I'm still here," she said quietly, suddenly beside Bella with a paper towel. She cleaned up the mess. "I don't know how that thing works." Kate pointed to the espresso machine.

"You want...a cup of coffee," said Bella slowly. It was the first time Kate had spoken in six days.

"Yes, please. Jeremy was a coffee addict; I like the smell." She gave a wan smile. "And it temporaneously warms my hands." She took the proffered mug and wrapped her pale fingers around it, her face screwing up a little. Bella recoiled, anticipating a wail of despair at the mention of Jeremy.

"I can't thank you enough," Kate whispered, "for letting me stay a little while. I knew you'd understand, after your separation from Edward last year."

Oh my God. It _was_ a year ago, when Edward had left her. And less than a year since he had been back. Bella had nearly forgotten all the pain; she had put it behind her, had left it in Forks, with Jacob and Charlie and the four green walls of her bedroom. Bella's heart clenched momentarily. "Yeah. Of course. No problem."

"Hey hellooo—"

Bella shrieked again, but didn't drop anything. This time it was Nick, poking his head through the new bedroom door into the hallway.

"Nick. I didn't know that you were here," she sighed. "That anyone was here."

"Well, we're painting now," he smiled amiably, his eyes glued on Kate as he came into the kitchen. "It's a little quieter. And the room is soundproof, 'course."

Kate met his gaze impassively, Bella noticed, but stood with breasts out, one hip slightly to the side, head lowered a little. Bella couldn't read if Kate's stance was provocative or anticipatory. Chase or be chased.

"Um, this is Kate. Edward's..._friend_," said Bella, not knowing what to call her.

"I'm your friend, too," murmured Kate. Then, to Nick: "How do you do?"

A brief discussion of paint colors, to which Bella could not offer any approval or disapproval, ensued, and then Nick, an otherwise intelligent man, stood there with a look of sheer idiocy on his face for a full thirty seconds after the conversation ended.

"_Nick_," Bella prompted. "I'll change out of my pajamas, then come have a look. In about an hour? Okay?"

He nodded dumbly, and she almost had to give him a push to get him to leave the room.

Kate stared at Bella, after Nick had gone. "Those are your _pajamas_?" she said, unexpectedly.

Bella looked down at her flannel plaid pj's and her oversize Dartmouth t-shirt. "Well..."

"You...sleep in the nude, then." Kate's eyes were wide. "Edward must have extraordinary control."

"No, no," said Bella quickly, thrown by this line of questioning. "I sleep in these."

"_You know_, don't you?" Kate leaned forward, her elbows on the counter. "You know that you should never to offer yourself to him, completely in the nude."

"What?" Bella felt her face heat instantly. No way would she confirm nor deny her current state of virginity, not to Kate. Not when it could get back to Tanya. "No. No one's told me that."

Kate's eyes were hard. "That's because they – the Cullens, that is - don't know." She straightened. "Don't...like, undress and get into the shower with him. Don't surprise him when he comes home, by lying naked on a bed of rose petals."

Bella stifled a laugh. She couldn't imagine having the confidence to do such a cheesy thing. "Okay. Because-"

"Because you'll look like Christmas dinner. With rose petals for garnish." Kate reached forward and took Bella's hand. "During coitus, always keep this covered," she said, pointing to the inside of Bella's wrist. "And this, your throat." Kate brushed the back of her finger across the tendon of Bella's neck, then down her forearm, slowly, slowly, then down to her hip bone. Bella shuddered.

Kate's thumb grazed Bella's thigh. It lingered there, moving back and forth. "And this, the femoral artery. Cover it. During sex. Understand?"

Bella's face was bright red by now. She stepped back, out of reach, and swallowed.

"You must respect the monster. Don't push his limits. Killing you would kill him. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"Yes, okay," she whispered, remembering the Target plastic bags he put around her thighs. "I understand."

Kate deflated then, her shoulders softening. "He's doing everything he can, you know. The bedroom, the pool."

Bella nodded, thoroughly disturbed by her own reaction. She felt damp and sticky, and not just under the arms.

"So,_ golabushka_, what's this ugly getup?" Kate tugged at the sleeve of Bella's t-shirt, her voice suddenly light again. "A prophylactic of some kind? Edward's idea of ropiety? Why don't you let him buy you –" she almost smiled –"something _feminine_?"

She means _propriety_, thought Bella. She shook herself, still reeling from Kate's invasion. "I don't really like gifts. I mean, he bought me some cold weather pajamas. Because...he's cold," she finished lamely. "Some Swedish, high-tech stuff."

"Ooh, like, Bjϋrssen?"

"You've heard of it. Yeah, that's it." Bella was surprised. "It might be good for um, camping," she said slowly.

"Bjϋrssen, you lucky girl. _Eftersom svenskarna vill vara sexig också_. Because Swedes want to be sexy too." She tapped her chin. "Yes, camping. Why not."

Bella stared.

"He's very clever, our dear Edward." Kate cupped the hot mug in her hands and sighed. "He's devoiding the mistakes my sisters and I have made." Then Kate leaned against the counter, put her hand over her eyes, and began to weep tearlessly again.

"Hey, hey," said Bella gently, reaching out but not quite touching Kate's shoulder. "Don't cry. You know what, I have no class today. It's cloudy. Let's get out of here for a while. Go somewhere fun."

Kate raised an anguished, miserable face. "Do you have a Barnes and Noble?"

&8&8&8&8&8

_How long is Kate going to stay with us? _Bella scribbled this on a scrap of paper and pushed it toward Edward. They sat across from one another in the library, surrounded by other students. Bella was restless, trying to write a short story assignment, mulling over the afternoon spent in Barnes and Noble with Kate, and fielding texts from Jake. Edward sat statue-still, moving only to turn the page of his text. It took no more than ten seconds between turns.

Now he took the paper from Bella's hands and uncapped his expensive pen. _Until Thanksgiving, Alice has predicted. I hope you don't mind._

Bella thought for a moment and wrote: _I would like our privacy back. _Then she crossed it out.

She didn't mind Kate. She even liked her. Kate was so... pretty. So sweet.

Bella leaned forward and typed on her phone: 'No way, Jake. Finish High School first.' She pushed 'Send'. It was actually a lot easier to talk to him now that he didn't want to steal her from Edward any more. Even if she had to lie to him about his mystery vampire.

"Focus," Edward mouthed, giving her a look of mock severity. He slid her phone a few inches away, too far away to read. "What is your story about?" he whispered, turning her attention back to her assignment.

"Two lesbians," she said promptly, and a neighbouring student raised his head. "In a bookshop," she said more quietly. The student looked away.

Edward quirked an eyebrow. "Okay. Get started," he prompted.

She picked up her pen again, wrote down a few ideas, followed by an outline, but couldn't come up with an opening sentence for her story. She took the scrap of paper back from Edward. _Is it possible Kate is Tanya's snoop? _she wrote. Then she quickly scratched it out. Edward would only dismiss her Tanya-worries as paranoia. Bella turned the page over and wrote: _Kate's lingerie is everywhere. _

It wasn't really everywhere, it was just hanging up to dry in the laundry room, but Bella knew what lingerie could do to Edward, and she didn't need him to be reminded that Kate had silky, lacy Double-D cups when Bella had only cotton B's (with one purple exception).

_I hadn't noticed, _he wrote, the corner of his mouth twitching.

_Yeah, right, _Bella wrote back. Edward noticed everything.

Before she could stop him, he turned the paper over and read the 'is she Tanya's snoop' question. His expression clouded. _Not an intentional one, _he wrote, frowning. _Kate's mind is entirely on her lost mate. She is heartbroken. Give her some credit. _

Bella jiggled her foot. _You don't have much sympathy for MY friend, _she wrote. She reached for her phone, pulling it back into view.

_JACOB BLACK IS MY RIVAL, _he wrote in beautiful, architectural capitals. He took hold of the other end of her phone in his forefinger and thumb, so they each had an end.

_AND KATE ISN'T MINE? _she wrote. She held the phone fast against the table.

Edward snorted and wrote with a flourish up the side of the paper: _Not in the least. You are beyond compare, my Bella-sweet. _Then he slipped the phone from her grasp and pocketed it, smirking. "True facts," he whispered.

Bella smiled back, against her will. His eyes were full of affection, his expression both goading and irresistible. She started a new piece of paper. _Why didn't you choose Kate right off the bat, in 1968? She's lovely. _Bella underlined 'lovely'. Kate seemed the obvious choice when compared to Tanya the schemer and Irina the cold seductress of idiot teen werewolves.

_She IS lovely. _He looked up and studied Bella's face for a moment. _Have a crush, do we? _he wrote.

Bella felt herself blush, but met his gaze evenly. _Did YOU? Have a crush?_

_Everyone gets a crush on Kate, _he wrote back. _You'll get over it. Unless you have sex with her. I did._ _I MEAN," _ he quickly amended, chortling, _"I got over it."_

_Yes, haha, _she wrote. _Very funny. You know, you never told me that part of the story. You and Kate. 1968. _She pushed it toward him and nodded at the paper, demanding a response.

_There is no story to tell. _

She thought _that's what you said about Tanya, _but instead wrote _Tell me anyway_.

_Persistent little thing, aren't you_, he wrote. _What's past has past. Here's the story: we drove to a bookshop in Anchorage in October 1968. We drove back. Twelve hours in a car with Kate. The End._

Bella giggled and wrote: _what, did she cry the whole time? _Kate had actually started crying at the Barnes and Noble coffee bar, as soon as a latte was put in her hand. This was after a short conversation about Tolstoy ("a total jerk" was Kate's main assertion) and a long discussion of the history of Lindsay Lohan's hair colour ("she'd make a beautiful ginger vampire").

_Don't be cruel, _he admonished._ Divorce is a painful process, all the more so for a vampire._

"Divorce?" she said aloud, causing the same student to raise his head again. "They were _married_?"

_Sixteen years, _wrote Edward, not looking at her.

Bella felt a wave of guilt. How callous she had been! How she had dismissed Kate's tears as melodrama! Kate had been married nearly as long as Bella had been alive. It hadn't been the sex fling Bella had envisioned. Jake's one-island-stand suddenly seemed all the more ridiculous.

Edward deflected the dreaded marriage topic: _I'm DONE rehashing 1968. Spend more time with Kate and she will tell you the story. _

Bella nudged him under the table with her foot and he looked up at her. _Why are you so interested in my becoming friends with Kate?_

_Alice has foretold it, whether I am interested or not._

Bella sat back, staring at him. _I thought we were ignoring Alice's advice, _she scribbled.

Edward let out a heavy sigh, his face turning melancholy again. _The last time I ignored her advice, I sorely regretted it_, he wrote.

"My birthday?" whispered Bella, daring to speak a taboo.

He nodded, once.

Bella put down her pen and reached across the table to take his fingers into her palm. "It's okay," she whispered. "It's all going to be okay."

"Good to know," he said in a quiet exhale.

&8&8&8&

Bella stood in the doorway, her mouth open. Two painters had a third smaller one by the hands and feet. They swung him, like a pendulum. Then with a shout of glee, they threw him with all their might against the wall. Bella gasped, bewildered and horrified. But he bounced on the red surface. It _gave_ several inches, as if it were rubber, and he was flung back toward the other two painters, knocking one over. They all fell on the floor, laughing.

"HEY. Cut it out, guys." Nick's voice called casually from the bathroom. Then Bella heard Kate's musical giggle coming from the same direction and the sound of a cell phone. Kate was in the new bathroom. With Nick.

Bella stepped into the bedroom and the painters scrambled to their feet.

"Sorry! Sorry," they said hastily, when they saw her. "Back to work, now," said one, picking up a can of paint and skirting around her.

"Sorry about that," said a young guy Bella had seen before. He had olive skin, dark eyes and a faint Puerto Rican accent. "It's just that wall is so cool. We've never worked on a free-runner specification before. This whole gym home gym thing...so...yeah," he finished.

"Free-runner," she repeated, nodding. Alice had just sent her a text with the cryptic words: '_They think Edward is a free-runner.' _ What's a free-runner?

"So, does your boyfriend have, like, any Youtube videos online? Doing stunts and stuff? Jumping off buildings?"

"Um, no," said Bella, now remembering exactly what one was.

Bouncy walls. Heated swimming pool. An inkling of what Edward had been saying, what Kate had mentioned, began to sink in. Was this all for her safety? For sex? In case he ever threw her against the wall? She moved toward the bathroom. "Kate?" she called.

"She's on the phone," said Nick, smiling broadly and gesturing at Kate, who had moved into a second glassed room. A room with steps directly down into the swimming pool, so that you could go into the water without actually going outside first. Like a warm airlock or something. Bella marvelled at the excessiveness of it all.

Nick was applying grout to the shower. "I think it's her sister. They're speaking Romanian or something."

"Russian," said Bella, suddenly on alert. Tanya? Or Irina? Kate stood in the small glassed room, her hand on her forehead. She spoke rapidly, her eyes closed, her face serious.

It felt like a little stab of betrayal, watching Kate speak with her sister. Bella had thoroughly enjoyed Kate's company over the last week, at least for a few hours every evening when Kate rose out of her television-saturated depression. They'd even been out with Freja one night, 'coffee-bar hopping'. Freja thought Kate was far too obsessed with Brad, Jen and Angelina and far too pretty to be staying at Bella's boyfriend's house. Yesterday they had hit the mall together; Bella didn't mind shopping with Kate, as she didn't try to entirely make Bella over, the way Alice would have.

Kate's conversation was alternately banal and fascinating, her comments charming and genuine. Kate had been frank and generous with tips for vampire-human sex, and she insisted Bella pick out seven pretty scarves, one for each day of the week, 'to cover her jugular, at all times'.

"Incise his lust, not his bloodlust," Kate had said, handing Bella packages of thigh-high hosiery with a wide, opaque band of lace around the thigh. _Incite_, not incise, thought Bella at the time. Or _excite_. Or _ignite_ even. Now, standing outside the glass cubicle, watching Kate communicate with one of her sisters, Bella wondered if _incise_ had been some sort of Freudian slip, or just Kate's strange habit or mistaking one word for another.

Bella had waited a whole week, until the next Tuesday came around, to ask about 1968. She wanted to be sure Edward wasn't present to influence the story. Now, watching her talk to her sister, Bella felt the ground shift beneath her a little. Surely Kate was sincere, and would give an honest account. She was 'artless', according to Edward, incapable of masking her thoughts from him. That very description had made Bella wonder once again, why Edward had not chosen Kate right from the beginning.

After Kate had hung up, after Bella had pried a drooling Nick away from Kate, after Bella got Kate settled on the sofa (television OFF) with a cup of coffee in her hand, she was able to ask: "So, how is Tanya? Or was that Irina?"

"Tanya," Kate sighed. "She is...um, troubled. But she is seeking an ablution." Kate lifted her coffee to her face and let the steam rise. She smiled gently. "She'll figure it out."

"She is not very happy about me," ventured Bella. "That I am going to be changed. That I even exist."

"She won't hurt you, you know. You're human." Kate hesitated, biting her lip. "Tanya is upset with Carlisle. And Edward. She thought she could count on their beliefs, whatever their personal gain." Kate smiled. "All the Cullens want you to change, it seems. The sooner the better. Despite the risks."

"The sooner the better?" murmured Bella. Edward wanted her to wait _years_.

"Sure. The longer the wait, the greater the chance you'll leave him. They don't want to see him unhappy any longer."

Bella stiffened with surprise. This was the theme of all Tanya's postcards and emails. Surely the Cullens had more faith in Bella's longevity. "I have no intention of leaving Edward!" she said vehemently. "Ever!"

"Mm," said Kate, her voice warbling. She turned her face aside. "That's what they all say," she said darkly.

Bella could see it coming again. The sob of despair, the next few hours consumed by Kate mourning her lost love. "Kate," said Bella softly, changing tack entirely. "Doesn't it seem odd now, to think they wanted to pair up you and Edward at one time?"

"Or Tanya. Or Irina. Not really." She shook her head, and instinctively wiped at a non-existent tear. "It doesn't seem odd now at all. We all want him, of course."

"You do?" Bella squeaked.

"Well, not _now_," said Kate, ambiguously, staring out the window. "Only once you're done with him. That's what we discovered, in 1968. Only one vampire can have him, of course. But many humans can, over time."

"You've lost me, Kate," said Bella, in a bit of a panic now. "Tell me. Tell me about 1968."

&8&8&8&8&8

Yeah, so a conversation focused chapter. The action begins again soon. Some major action, actually. The story nears its end.

I've been studying dyslexic learners recently, and the difficulties they have with words and letters moving, changing, flipping – even floating off the page. It's not just b's into d's, it can be much more, with a lot of variation between individuals. What if you were dyslexic AND had an eidetic memory? And then had to learn a new language? Think about it.


	24. Chapter 24: Kate and Edward

Thanks to beta Antebellum and Kristi as always.

**To review, as it has been so long. In the previous chapter, Jake announced his infatuation with a mysterious blonde vampire, Kate Denali wept her way into the house at Balch Hill Road then dispensed tips for successful human-vampire sex. Bella sought out the story of Edward and Kate in 1968 and now, Kate obliges...**

**Chapter 24: The Kate and Edward that never was**

**September 1968. Denali, Alaska**

It was time for a conference. Imperative, actually, now that Irina had departed. The two sisters met at a familiar place, a ridge on the edge of an abandoned quarry. They spoke in their native tongue, a now defunct Slavic dialect, in case the Cullens should pass this way while tracking a meal.

"Well," Kate said, bouncing on her toes, "what do you think?"

Tanya stood, feet apart, hands on hips. "I think Irina couldn't take it. The mind-reading."

Kate was impatient. "Yes, yes, but what do you think of HIM?"

Tanya studied her sister. "I'm still deciding," she said slowly. "It's only been a week."

"Fair enough," replied Kate, exhaling. Tanya could be infuriatingly opaque at times. "I rather like him."

"I can tell."

"Intelligent, gentlemanly. Affable enough. Cultured, despite his American, mostly rural residency. Always reading – at least when he's not glancing at our breasts. You think he's shy, then he comes out with some really acerbic remark. He might even be funny. Underneath."

"Mmm," said Tanya thoughtfully, looking into the distance. She gave nothing away.

"He observes more than you think, even when he's reading."

"That's because he _knows _what you think," Tanya reminded her sharply.

"It doesn't bother me," said Kate in a mild tone. She hoped this – this, above all! – might win him for her. Tanya was too much of a manipulator to tolerate a constant invasion of her mind. Her tricks made transparent, her schemes sussed? Unacceptable, surely.

Tanya ignored Kate's comment. "I'd like to see a little more of what's underneath," she quipped, a glint in her eye. "Courage? Loyalty? He carries some burden – guilt, I think."

"He's had human blood, unlike Carlisle. It bothers him now."

"He seems to share Carlisle's lofty code of ethics," murmured Tanya. "I wonder how much of what Edward says is original thought, and how much he is simply parroting his mentor and maker."

"Edward is not yet a century old," said Kate. "And Carlisle would serve as inspiration to anyone, really. I feel his influence, even in the short time he has been here. He reminds me of Louis IX, a little," she said wistfully, thinking of her thirteenth century lover-King.

Kate didn't want a leader, however. A man distracted by politics, devoted to all? No thanks. She'd been there and done that. She wanted an attentive lover, a congenial and affectionate companion for eternity. "Why don't you have Carlisle?" she blurted to Tanya. "And I'll take Edward."

"I'm not sure I'd want Carlisle now." Tanya pursed her lips. "Carlisle has relinquished his former position in the Volturi."

"That's because Aro and his comrades are _vile_. Carlisle might consider a return, at least with a shrewd, like-minded partner at his side." Kate slipped into the persuasive voice she used on humans. "A co-leader for the humanist cause. He is not a chauvinist."

Carlisle could use a touch of chauvinism, actually. Kate had trouble imagining him in bed.

"True," replied Tanya, snorting softly at her sister's transparent attempt. "However, his coven would likely retaliate against us, if we dispose of Esme-"

&8&8&

"WAIT," cried Bella, rising to her feet. "What do you mean, _'dispose of Esme'_?"

"Or is the word 'depose'?" Kate wondered aloud.

Bella clutched her fists to her chin. "Do you mean _kill her_?"

Kate looked sheepish. "Well, we didn't know Esme then. Rest assured, Bella, I wouldn't hurt Esme now for the world."

"So you won't kill humans for food, but you will kill another vampire in order to steal her mate?"

Kate held up a white hand. "Sit down, Bella. I love Esme like I love my own sisters. I would defend her in battle," she said sincerely, "against the Volturi even."

"But...but," Bella spluttered, sinking weakly back into her chair. "Even so. You can't just _decide _to have Carlisle. He'd be devastated for eternity. There's no way he'd hook up with his wife's murderer."

A ghost of a smile passed over Kate's face. "Men are far more malletable than you think, Bella."

&8&8&8

"Lovers, allies, both. Carlisle, Edward, neither. I have to weigh all the options," said Tanya. The snow was falling now, and she lifted her face to the soft sensation. "I need to know Edward better before we commit to an irretrievable path."

"Okay, well," hedged Kate, shifting on her feet, "he's offered to take me to Anchorage. To the library. Maybe a bookstore. I had complained that I had read _everything_ under my bed," she explained hastily, "and he tried to lend me his rather fat, small-print novel and-"

"I was in the house. I heard," said Tanya.

"You hadn't spoken of it... I wasn't sure-"

"I'll allow it," interrupted Tanya, giving a short, imperious nod. "You may go to Anchorage."

Kate cheered inside. If Edward were to show a preference, then perhaps Tanya would not refuse them.

"You won't fuck him, though. Not until I say so."

"Oh, you _are_ no fun," teased Kate, though she fully anticipated this condition. She gave her sister a little shove, knocking her into a spruce trunk, and Tanya broke into a laugh, before recovering to shove right back. Eventually, they both lay in the snow, looking up through the tall, straight trunks of conifers above them. Snowflakes settled on their faces and began to stack in perfect, crystallized form.

"Can you imagine?" said Kate, after a period of absolute stillness. "No more lies. No more complaints."

"Yes," agreed Tanya, nodding. "None of this _can't you just pretend to sleep? I want to wake up together_. _" _ She mimicked a whiny, human male voice. _ "I wish you could enjoy food; it's so IMPORTANT_. "

"_Move over, you're making me_ _cold," _contributed Kate. "_Just once, couldn't we stroll along the promenade in the sunshine?_"

"_Are you an angel? _Yes. That's it_."_

"_Are you an alien? _Aw, you guessed it_."_

"_I want a real kiss; I'm leaving you,_" said Tanya bitterly.

"_I want children; I'm leaving you," _Kate muttered.

They sighed, contemplating their lost human mates and the all-too-vivid memories of seduction, lovemaking, companionship, and heartbreak over the centuries.

"Hush," hissed Tanya, though Kate hadn't said anything for several minutes. Tanya rose from the snow and looked below, into the quarry.

A thud, thud, thud of a massive weight hitting the packed powder sounded from the corner of the man-made canyon.

Tanya pointed and Kate rose to her feet. A brown bear, a full grown male, fat from summer feeding, came thundering into view across the quarry floor. And in silent, rapid pursuit:

"_Edward_," whispered Kate.

They watched him, his lean form angled forward, his head at a slight tilt as he ran, as if he were considering which was the beast's more vulnerable side. Perhaps the bear realized it could not outrun its unfamiliar, otherworldly predator, and it turned belatedly, sliding and stumbling. There was a momentary standoff: Edward crouched on the ground, the bear preparing to charge. With a roar of fury the bear rose to its feet and Edward was upon it. The bear kicked, it rolled, it scrabbled at its attacker, but Edward had embraced it like a lover, one arm around its neck, the other hand cupping the bear's jaw.

The sisters watched him with a critical eye, looking for flaws of form, of poor judgement, of cruelty or inefficiency, but they could not find him lacking. Kate wished for a moment that he was not quite so alluring; she would surely lose him to her coven leader.

"Do you think he can read our minds from this distance?" said Kate, in the faintest of whispers.

Tanya ignored Kate again; she was watching. "He has a sort of leonine tension to him," observed Tanya quietly. "A repressed anger perhaps. Such a quality would play out delightfully in bed."

Kate frowned. They hadn't both wanted the same man in two centuries. Kate had lost that one, a handsome Venetian nobleman, too.

Edward was feeding now, and the familiar movement of neck and shoulders, the gentle rocking of the torso, sent a sweet ache of lust through Kate's body. She curled her bare toes in the snow.

"When was the last time you had cock in your mouth?" asked Tanya huskily, her eyes fixed on the two forms far below.

"_Ohmygod_," whispered Kate. "It was turn of the century. 1903. My last vampire lover. There was a fresh human corpse in the room. Ugh. Never again."

"1932," said Tanya, licking her lips. Edward seemed to be taking his last pulls. He would be at his most susceptible now.

"God," moaned Tanya. "Let's go down there right now. We'll take turns holding him down and blowing him. At seventeen, it won't take five minutes."

There was a beat of silence and they burst into laughter. The sound spilled across the quarry, and Edward looked up.

8&8&8&8&

"Stop. STOP," said Bella, putting her hands over her ears. "Please. I can't bear it, you discussing Edward this way."

"Oh. Yes, sorry." Kate let out an embarrassed, tinkling laugh. "Carmen says I have no sense of excretion."

"Excretion is..._shit_," corrected Bella, sounding a little hysterical. "No sense of _dis_cretion. It's all. So. WRONG," she cried.

"It IS shit," agreed Kate. "I'm always putting my foot in my mouth."

"No, no, _excretion_ _is shit_." Bella gestured helplessly. "DIScretion...oh nevermind! I had no idea...your disregard for his own free will...the _disrespect_," she babbled. "You really DID want him, didn't you? FUCK," she swore under her breath.

"You mistake me, Bella," said Kate, serious now. "I have nothing but the greatest respect for Edward. And my desire to please my mates is infinitive. Any manipulation is entirely in their favour, believe me," she said, without even a whiff of modesty.

"_Infinite_," choked Bella.

"Infinite," Kate repeated matter of factly. "Okay."

"Sorry." Bella took a breath. "I'm being rude. Okay, why don't you tell me about going to the bookstore with Edward."

"Which bookstore?"

"ANCHORAGE. You just _told_ me you were going to the bookstore in Anchorage." Bella was back on her feet again.

Kate was unflappable. "Bella," she soothed. "Sit down. He also showed up in the Juneau bookstore. A couple of weeks later, after he'd put the car through the ice. After...well..." Kate looked away. "I suppose _he_ should tell you that part."

"He did tell me that part," said Bella carefully. She lifted her chin. "I already know. What happened with Tanya."

"Well, that's a relief." Kate blew out a breath. "I don't want to embarrass him, poor boy." She shook her head, back on the verge of giggling again.

Bella sat down and gripped a throw cushion between her fingers. "Tell me about Anchorage first. An abridged version will do."

"_Abridged_," said Kate slowly. "What does that mean?"

"Shortened. Limited. Like an abridged dictionary?"

"Ooh, I try to stay away from dictionaries."

8&8&8

**October 1968 Route 3, Alaska**

Kate counted her money. Fifteen dollars and some change.

"Are you a classic fiction kind of girl?" Edward kept turning to look at her, taking his eyes off the road, although Carlisle's Mercedes speedometer read over a hundred miles per hour. Kate sat curled up and facing him, shoes kicked off, her hand resting gracefully near his headrest. Her legs, she knew, were beautiful, and she moved and stretched them occasionally to keep his attention on them.

"Oh, I like both fiction and real-life stories," she said.

"You mean biographies?"

"Sometimes. Yes, though not _too_ historical as they often get it wrong. I like knowing what's going on here and now. I buy magazines, too. It's always a toss-up, how to spend my money. Something current and exciting? Or a good novel I can sink my teeth into."

He nodded, chuckling at her teeth joke. "Ah, politics versus a good love story."

"That's an easy one!" Kate exclaimed. "A good love story every time."

This made him smile. He looked quite happy, actually, and she tried to keep her mind away from thoughts of making him even happier by having her way with him on the side of the road. So instead she thought of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton, of Grace Kelly and Prince Ranier. Would Eddie Fisher go back to Debbie Renyolds or keep up with that slutty singer Connie Stevens? Debbie was a _doll._ Eddie was fool to let her go.

He began to laugh. "I like your diversion tactics," he said. "Very banal. Alice will recite the periodic table to keep me out." Kate laughed too, though she had no idea what _banal_ meant.

Edward seemed fascinated by the story of her early years, how she was kidnapped from Northern Russia and turned for the sole purpose of serving as a concubine for a Ghaznavid Sultan in Persia. "He was a vampire, though he managed to hide it from his people for twenty years. My sisters and I were the 'kanak'. The three golden mistresses."

Edward took his foot off the accelerator, his mouth slightly agape. "And...you didn't mind this, um, role?"

"Of course we did," she replied cheerfully. "We killed him, with the help of his guard, after about ten years."

"Ah," said Edward softly. "Good for you."

"Then we returned to Eastern Europe, where we unveloped a...what's the word? A _reputation_." _Succubi_, she thought, completely forgetting to suppress that information.

Her eyes snapped to Edward. He stared back at her. If he was surprised or disgusted or even titillated, he hid it well.

&8&8&

"And there's not much more to tell, really. He bought me a whole load of books," said Kate, "but I don't think I ever read any of them. I later hid one of my own books inside the cover of his – just to be polite. But of course he could read my mind, so that didn't work."

"You _hid_ your books inside his?" said Bella, curious.

"Harlequin Romance novels. You could buy them for ninety-eight cents in the sixties. I had hundreds of them under my bed."

Bella stared at Kate. A thousand year old vampire reads..._Harlequin Romance novels_?

"He was much quieter on the drive home," mused Kate. "I read to him about Mia and Frank. Edward didn't even know they were a couple."

"Who are Mia and Frank?" said Bella, bewildered.

"Helloo, Mia Farrow? _Frank Sinatra_. It was in _Player_ magazine, though the Anchorage store only had the month old edition," she tutted. "Mia later got together with Woody Allen, can you believe it?"

"No. I can't. Um, why don't you tell me about the second bookstore then. Juneau."

Kate looked down; she fingered the hem of her little skirt. "Yes, Juneau," she sighed. "It was a few weeks later."

&8&8&8

**October 1968 Juneau, Alaska**

Kate made a beeline to the corner of the bookstore devoted to French. Many of the books catered to hunting and outdoor pursuits (the French trapper still very much a profession) and a few covered the history of French-speaking Canada, but there was a small selection of translated Classics. She would compare them, English to French, and conquer at least one of the books he had bought her. It was a matter of pride.

"Dickens, Dickens," she murmured, running her fingers slowly along the spines. "Où est Dickens?"

"You're going to read him...in _French_?"

Kate jumped. "Edward! What are you doing here?" He stood there in front of her, with a wild look in his eyes. His clothes were half-frozen, with bits of green vegetation and mud crusted into the hem of his trousers. His hair, likewise. She sniffed and recoiled. "Have you been _swimming_?"

"Not intentionally. I had to, um, fetch the BMW."

"WHAT?" she laughed. "What do you mean? Where is Tanya? Isn't she with you?"

"No. I just left her. At the house. The BMW is at the bottom of Lake Chukiminuk. Unfortunately."

Kate gasped. "Our car?"

"Yes." An expression of guilt passed briefly across his face. "I'll...I'll get another one, I promise. I ran here, looking for you." He looked down at the book in her hands,_ Une Conte de deaux Villes. _ _A Tale of Two Cities_. "Why are you buying the book I already bought you?" His brows came together and he jerked his head up, searching her face. "Sais-tu comment parler le français?"

"Oui! Of course. Et vous?"

"Oui, je le sais bien."

"Why didn't you _say so_?" she squealed, speaking rapidly in French. "My French is far superior to my English. You've no idea how frustrating it is to be unable to articulate exactly what you want to say! I wish I had known. We could have really talked." _And now_, she thought, _it's too late_.

He swayed a little, blinking at her. "You hadn't mentioned it."

"I lived there for three centuries. Paris, Avignon, La Dordogne, sometimes. I was at court, off and on. I've written quite a detailed chronicle – a royal social history of sorts. Mostly full of gossip, but you might find it interesting – though my writing is full of errors."

"Your French is excellent." He said this as if it were a startling surprise.

"It took two centuries before it became so. I have...a problem with words." Kate turned and inclined her head toward the window. "Esme – they're at the antique store across the road, if you were wondering – well, Esme thinks I have something called dyslexia. Until we moved to Alaska, I avoided English – such a baffling, inconsistent language!" Kate smiled. "You're beginning to drip on the carpet."

Indeed, the store clerk was frowning and peering over the shelves at them.

"Ignore him; he's afraid of us," hissed Edward. "I came to ask you something."

"This sounds serious," she replied, mimicking his tone. She crossed her arms over her chest, holding the book against her.

"I am serious," he said, his voice even lower. "Kate, what do you think of marriage?" he asked.

"Is this a proposal?" she joked, with a touch of bitterness. He hadn't protested, after all, when she had set off with Esme and Carlisle and left him with Tanya. Her eyes widened. "Edward, why aren't you with Tanya?"

"What do you think of marriage, Kate?" he persisted, growing more agitated with every word. "Human marriage." He shrugged, frustrated. "Marriage in general."

Kate knew her answer immediately. "It is sacred. It's lovely. It's trying. It can be the highest and best state two lovers can share, whether human or vampiric." She knew it well. Kate had been married over twenty times. "I am a romantic. You must have concluded that much about me, considering all the romance novels I purchased last week. Marriage is vital."

He lowered his head, looking at the floor. "I've misjudged. I've been a fool. Could we try again?"

"EDWARD. WHY aren't you with Tanya?"

"We had a falling out." He emitted a quiet growl. "It wasn't working out."

"How could it possibly not work out? Didn't she...didn't you two..."

His head snapped up; he looked offended. "Did you and your sister make some _plan_? Is there some collusion I should be aware of?"

A conversation with Tanya rushed involuntarily into Kate's head. _I've made up my mind_, Tanya had said, a week after the Anchorage trip. _I'll take him for my own._ _Take Carlisle and Esme to Juneau for a few days; I will bed Edward. _Tanya had announced this with no apology, no consideration for Kate's feelings. Not that Kate expected any.

"I see," he said stiffly. He looked away. "Jesus."

Kate felt suddenly as if she could cry. "Edward," she whispered. "Don't. You know how covens work."

"NO," he said aggressively. "Mine is an exception. To everything. Tell me. HOW DO THEY WORK?"

"Coven leader gets first choice of mate. You know that. Tanya has made her decision." Kate closed her eyes and pushed against his chest, against his dirty shirt, with _Une Conte de deaux Villes_ clutched in her fist. "We won't discuss this again. Now go. Go back to Tanya."

8&8&8&

"You...you could have been married to Edward, all this time," Bella observed, her voice shaking, "but for the selfishness of your sister." She didn't realize she had tears on her cheeks until suddenly Kate was sitting beside her, offering a tissue.

"No," said Kate firmly, touching Bella's knee. "Tanya knows what is best. Perhaps I used the wrong word... you misunderstood me. Tanya put Edward..._mis sur la plateau. _ He was put aside. On reserve. You know?" She tapped her finger thoughtfully on her chin. "It's what vintners do to young, brash wines. The years take the edge off, the flavour becomes rich and full-bodied over time, due to the soil, the temperature, various fining agents ..._collage, _the French call it. _You_ are a fining agent." She laughed softly at her little metaphor. "One human girl, or maybe one of several, who might touch his heart, his body. Edward needs to gain experience. He needs to overcome his _l'éjaculation précoce_." Kate smiled. "He needs you."

&8&8&8&

Edward drove up to a darkened house and put the Ducati in the barn, next to the silver Volvo. He thought at first no one was home, or had perhaps just departed, as Bella's smell was fresh...minutes old, actually. Kate was nowhere to be found either, her thoughts obviously beyond his two mile limit.

He deposited his books, motorcycle helmet and jacket right in the middle of the living room floor, then sat down at the piano, absently teasing out a song with one hand and checking his phone for a message with the other. He read one message from Tanya and deleted it.

No message from Bella.

Edward rose again, restless, and closed his eyes, trying to isolate and focus his sense of smell. Bella _was_ here – but where was her heartbeat? He followed her freshest scent to the new bedroom door. Ah! The soundproof door. _Idiot._ He turned the handle and pushed.

And there she was. There were a hundred or so lit tealights placed around the bare, still-uncarpeted floor. Someone (Kate? Nick?) had brought the tufted chaise lounge from the bedroom, and Bella lay on it, half reclined with her cheek propped by her elbow and a tentative smile on her face. Her hair was pulled up loosely atop her head and she wore the single pair of high heels that she owned. Incongruously, she wore a scarf around her neck and a set of teal blue Swedish pajamas.

Pajamas that hugged her figure like a second skin. Pajamas that were more holes than not-holes. She was both entirely dressed and entirely naked.

She looked exquisite. Luscious. _Fuckalicious,_ to use one of his classmate's favorite words.

"Bjϋrssen," said Edward, standing in the doorway.

8&8&8&

Feel free to correct my French and Swedish, which were taken from a translation site! I wanted Edward to ask 'Do you know French?' meaning _are you familiar with French _rather than the usual _do you speak French. _ And I want him to answer _I know it well. _

Thanks for not giving up on me. I am ALMOST finished with my little degree.

ETA: Thanks to shinzonx for correcting my French! Any Swedes out there?

And no, Bjurssen isn't a real brand. I just liked the name. If you want to know what it looks like, google Amanda Seyfried in Esquire. Something like that, but more open and with sleeves. And Bjurssen is supposed to be made of high-tech fibres that hold your body heat in. How I wish there really was something like that. I'm all flannels in the English winter.

DON'T Google 'fishnet bodystocking' like I did. The results are kinda scary.


	25. Chapter 25: One Hundred Percent

Previous chapter summary: Kate recounts how she plied Edward with celebrity gossip in 1968, before rejecting him in deference to Tanya's claim. Edward comes home to find Bella dressed in her Swedish birthday lingerie posing on a chaise lounge in the unfinished bedroom.

Author's note: Since a few of you asked, in the last chapter Tanya was joking when she said _let's go hold him down and take turns_, etc. They are a little more civilised than that. Just a little.

**Chapter 25: One hundred percent**

"Bjϋrssen," he said, standing in the doorway.

"Gazundheit," she replied, nervously.

Then he was kneeling in front of her. "Hello gorgeous," he said. "You're here. In our bedroom-to-be. You look...well, amazing."

_Fuckalicious. _A slow, lopsided grin moved across his face. "What's with the scarf?"

"Covering my jugular. " She sat up and put her hands on either side of his face. "Edward. I'm so, so sorry."

"About what?"

"About so much. About everything. The SUV. My disinterest in this room. The swimming pool. I've been a brat."

"Have you?" he said, though he found himself nodding.

"I spoke without thinking on my birthday," she ventured. "I was awful about the pajamas."

He wondered which part of the birthday conversation she was referring to, marriage or sex. "Nothing granny-like about them, is there?" he chided gently, wrapping his fingers around her calves. "Looks like they fit after all."

His eyes raked over her, cataloguing what showed and what didn't. Nipples and pubis were hidden behind a denser pattern of decorative lace; her thighs were ringed by a band that mimicked thigh high stockings. All else was exposed through an open web of high tech fibers, that were supposed to retain the body's heat. She was, otherwise, essentially naked. "God damn," he muttered, as all the venom rushed south to his groin. He did not want to repeat the birthday confrontation – it was too painful even to discuss - yet he wanted to touch every square inch of her.

"Yeah, they ...um, they really stretch._"_ She blushed under his scrutiny, suddenly self-conscious of her breasts and her breathing. "They're beautiful . Sexy."

_And there are more in the back of the closet_, he thought. He would like to see her in all of them. Modelled. With heels.

"And this," she indicated the room, "it's all for me, I realize that now."

"Yes," he agreed, watching his own hands run slowly up over her knees. _Eighty two percent_, he thought. That's how much skin-to-skin contact he was getting. "It's for your safety. Your warmth and comfort. But those are selfish motivations too."

"Edward." She leaned forward. "I will always want to be with you – even without all these aids," she said fiercely. "Even if we never stepped in the sun again. Even if you couldn't put your mouth on me fully. Even if I stayed human and was always cold when I was with you. Babies? I can live without them."

"Okay, whoa." He drew back a little. "What brought all this on?"

"Kate. Tanya. They always end up alone...but oh my God," said Bella, eyes wide, "they are warped. The way they think! The way they manipulate men, then are so surprised when the men leave them. Kate told me... she told me _everything_! Anchorage, Juneau. You could have been, uh... been..." She touched the ring finger of Edward's left hand. It was what he wanted: to be married.

"...with Kate," she finished instead, a little sob catching in her throat. "Having sex for decades now. Getting blow jobs even," she said, wildly.

"Oh, every hour, on the hour, I'm sure."

She squeezed his forearms, willing him to be serious. "Instead, you've been alone. Kate thinks that Tanya put you _on reserve_. That you have a problem with premature ejac—"

"I know. A humiliating lie."

"But you could have pre-empted it in Juneau-"

"_Bella_," interrupted Edward, moving his hands to her waist and tucking his fingers in the holes. _Seventy six percent_, where the lace contracted. "I cannot fathom the idea of spending even one year watching whatever permutation of _Entertainment Tonight _or _Big Brother _Kate loves, never mind a century or eternity. Nor discussing ridiculous novels...in French only, because her English drives me crazy. All this under the spell of a succubus' gift?" He shook his head. "Can you imagine? It would have been the ultimate torture."

Bella blinked in surprise. "But... you said it yourself... she's so lovely."

"Yeah, for about a month. Then I can't take it anymore." He chuckled at Bella's expression and brushed a forefinger across her cheek. "I have no regrets. Kate rejected me; I upheld the facade of Tanya's power; they became my family's allies. I thank you, my girl, for your sympathy. It's very mature of you, actually. But why would I want her..." he said as he pitched slowly forward, "...when I can have _this_." He parted her legs and planted a kiss just inside her knee.

The view was obscene and enticing. Lace ended and an open weave began in the most strategic of places. You could make love without taking the thing off her? As much as he would like to have her one hundred percent naked, she would at least be warm when they finally made love. These Swedes were geniuses.

"Mouthguards," he rasped, scrambling for the case in his pocket.

"Kate's dyslexic," Bella said breathlessly, pressing him still. "Not unintelligent." She watched him affix the blue rubber guards to his teeth with a tingle of anticipation in her stomach. He had put his mouthguards to use only a handful of times since Kate's arrival.

"Agreed," he replied, tearing his eyes away from her sex. "Kate's eidetic memory exathcerbates her dyslexthia to a degree more extreme than any human's. She'll _speak _a mistake that she _saw_ in a book a century ago. A vampire's strongest memory is scent-based. Then sight, _then_ auditory. Correct her verbally all you like, she has to _read_ it correctly. Opportunities for correction are limited under the vocabulary of Nora Roberts and Danielle Steel."

He moved his palms to the swell of Bella's ass. _Ninety percent _contact here_._ "Can we stop talking about Kate now?" he murmured, lowering his head again.

"Definitely," she replied, feeling almost lightheaded with relief. He didn't harbour a secret yearning to be married to Kate; no, quite the contrary. Kate's ethereal beauty, her vague desire to have him for herself – none of that mattered. Bella watched him put his wet mouth on the opposite spot inside her knee and felt his tongue flatten across a honeycomb shaped opening. "You are mine," she marvelled, threading her fingers into his silky hair. She must never take it for granted.

"Yours for eternity, my Bella-sweet, human or immortal," he said to her thighs.

"But, but..." She gripped his shoulders. "If I were to stay human...I don't ever want you to be alone again. If I were to grow old...if something ever happens to me..."

He looked up. It was the first time she had mentioned the possibility of staying human. "Please Bella. It is enough to hear that you want me to be happy. Nothing untoward will happen to you, not if Alice and I can help it. Not by any vampire's violence, nor any drunk driver, and certainly not by my hand."

"That's why you had this sex room built. So we could make love safely."

"It is nothing so lurid as a _sex room_," he laughed low in his chest. "It is our bedroom, and if Nick doesn't finish soon, I am going to go mad." He scooped her up by her ass, wrapping her legs around his waist. Suddenly her back was against the soft red wall. They sank into it, bouncing a little as he held her up.

Stone vampire in front of her, rubber cushion behind. It _was_ a sex room. She couldn't help but giggle. "You're hard," she said indelicately.

"Have been since I walked in here," he murmured, brushing his lips against hers. He reached under her to unbutton his jeans. "Jeans chafe," he explained.

"Are we...testing it out?" she asked, eyes wide. "The wall, I mean," she giggled again.

"Only a dry run," he said primly, even as his dick popped out of his pants, straining the fabric of his cotton boxers. "To test the– oh,_ that's good_ – coefficients of elasticity and plasticity," he said, moving his body against her experimentally. "So good."

"It's dry _humping_," she said with glee, trying to get a fix on what how much exactly she could feel down there. _ Underwear_, she thought. The last line of defense. Against a big, oh-so-hard vampire penis.

"Still laughing, are you?" he growled, lifting her higher and taking her covered nipple into his mouth. All giggles turned to whimpers and squeaks as he used his mouth above and his free hand below to ensure there was _nothing dry about this hump_. She gripped his shirt while he moved his fingers languidly, slipping a digit into the slick heat and enjoying the arch and writhe of her barely covered body.

"Are my hands too cold? Are you warm enough?" he whispered.

"No...and yes...God...take off your shirt," she babbled, tugging at his buttons. He pulled his shirt over his head with one hand and promptly returned to her embrace. _An average of approximately eighty five percent contact_, he thought, his upper chest brushing her breasts deliciously. And she was warm. Or warm enough. Every woman in a cold climate should have Bjϋrssen. He would buy a thousand of them and send them randomly to women across Sweden, in pure gratitude.

"Kiss me," she begged and their mouths came together, wet and wanting. He pushed his tongue in deep, taking her mouth roughly and forgetting his lips alone could bruise her. She met his force with her own passion, her fingers tugging on his hair. He pulled her hard against his erection and she moaned in his mouth.

"_Wait_," he said suddenly, pulling back and then holding his breath. The spike heels, the lingerie, her thighs around his waist, the soft, glorious eighty five percent contact. Could he maintain control? The desire to move, to pound, to_ fuck, _reverberated through his entire body, just as it had in the backseat of the SUV.

"I promise not to push you," she whispered against his cheek, guessing correctly what worried him. "I didn't wear this to seduce you... or trick you. I will respect the monster."

It was the first time she had acknowledged that sex could be lethal for them. The label _monster_ was no affront; it was a reassuring, overdue admission. Before, her naivety had been nothing but an abdication of responsibility. He breathed again, relaxing.

"You are wonderful," he said gratefully. "You must shout at me...hit me...stop me if I start to hurt you. Or if I try to...try to enter you. Agreed?"

"Agreed," she said, nodding.

The last thing she wanted, she realized suddenly, was for Edward to regret the way they lost their virginity. She would support his self-control. Instead, his own passion and desire, fuelled by the right lingerie and a safe-sex bedroom, would convince him that engagement was not a pre-requisite, that he could not possibly wait much longer to make love. Surely he would come to the decision on his own; she would not press for a hardline decision.

Edward was moving again; Bella and the rubber wall moved gently in response. At first he held his head upright, his eyes closed and his brows drawn together in concentration. His face was half-lit by the candlelight and Bella watched him, curious if she could ascertain the approach of the tipping point, the moment when his desire would become feral.

The rhythmic pressure down _there_, however, muddied her thoughts, and soon her eyes closed too and she was making the same gasping noises he was. He picked up speed and buried his face in her shoulder. When she felt his bare cock come out of the top of his boxers, she didn't stop him. When the entire wall was rolling like a wave machine, she didn't stop him. When he planted his fingers in the lace just above her sternum and ripped downward, she shrieked.

'Edward!"

He pulled it wide open, even ripping it off one shoulder. In a velvet, deadly timbre, in rhythm with his hips, he rasped in her ear: "I...will...have...my... one...hun...dred...per..cent." He thrust erratically at her a few more times and climaxed.

After a few final lurches of his body, he held her close, cold bare skin pressed tightly against warm, the cool venom ejaculate wet between them. Slowly he emerged from his feral state. His mouth was full of scarf and his mind rose to a panic.

"BELLA!" he cried, drawing back to look at her and the shredded remains of her Bjϋrssen.

"Well." She raised a flushed, beatific face. "_That_ was good."

&8&8&8&8&8

"And two of Edward's classmates. That makes nine in total. A pumpkin, a pecan, an apple. That's plenty of pie."

"Ten in total," corrected Freya. "You didn't count Miss Tits-and-Legs?"

Bella snorted. "Kate won't eat pie. Actually, I thought she was leaving by Thanksgiving but she's showing no signs of goi -shopping cart. SHOPPING CART."

"Oops, shit. Did I hit it?" asked Freya, peering into the rear view mirror.

"I don't think so," replied Bella, glancing back. The parking lot was full of Thanksgiving shoppers fighting for spaces and overflowing rows of shopping carts. Freya weaved her VW in and out.

"Bella. Don't you ever worry?" Freya asked, turning her head to look at Bella. "About leaving two such beautiful people alone together? Like, when you're in class for the day?"

"No," said Bella, involuntarily lifting a finger to persuade Freya's attention back to the road. "They're good. They've been friends a long time."

Freya _hmm_-ed neutrally in response and Bella returned to her menu, her mind occupied with whether there would be enough for eight college students and two vampires who would at least load their plates for appearance's sake. Bella had straight-up asked Alice who this supposed group of girlfriends was going to be, and then she invited the ones she had at least met before. Why wait? Edward had surprised her with his two invites. Apparently he was making friends after all, despite his certainty about being chronically unlikeable. Bella smiled to herself, feeling proud of him. He was all fired up about cooking his first Thanksgiving turkey – though entirely for the benefit of others.

"You know how Edward's all righteous about your virginity?" Freya continued, as if there had been no pause in the conversation.

"Huh?" said Bella.

"You know, the whole engagement-blackmail thing."

"I wouldn't call it _blackmail_," protested Bella, startled.

"Withholding sex is manipulation. Blackmail. Whatever. You know it's those repressed types that actually lead secret lives of debauchery on the side. Dee-bow-cher-reee," she repeated in a little sing-song, as if she had never said the word before.

"Okay, Freya, thank-you-that's -enough. He's not manipulating me in the least. If anything it's the other way around," she muttered. Bella usually found Freya's candor charming...or even helpful, if they were assessing each other's essays for Prufrock. Not today.

"It's in the news all the time, you know," Freya continued. "Congressmen and church leaders and stuff. And Kate, she's like unemployed and not exactly doing anything? Don't you ever worry you'll come home and find them jinkying on the sofa?" She giggled. "Jinkying."

"FREYA, I swear! You're starting to piss me off. I was upset the day I told you, but I'm...I'm dealing with it now." Bella scowled at Freya, who was leaning forward like a little old lady, peering out at the road as she drove. "Anyway, Kate gave up on him long ago when her sister tried to lay claim. Turn here." Bella pointed at the next intersection. "HERE."

"Bah, missed it. I'll turn around? Well, that's good then. I mean, the sister couldn't_ possibly_ be any sexier than Kate, right?"

"Uh, well..." Bella sighed. "No, Tanya's sexier, probably."

"WHAT?" Freya laughed. "More tit? More leg?"

"Yeah, more. More of everything. _Fire hydrant_."

Freya made a u-turn, nearly clipping the fire hydrant on the corner. "But not prettier, right? I mean, Kate's got that supermodel face."

Bella didn't answer. The faces of goddesses. All three Denali girls.

"Shit, girl."

"Tanya's mean though," Bella piped up. "And talk about manipulative! Now _that _makes her ugly." Bella folded her arms and gave a sharp nod. Tanya, ugly. There's an idea.

"She sounds terrifying."

"You've no idea."

"_She_'s not going to visit, right?"

"God, I hope not."

"OH-EM-GEEE, you live here?"

"It's Edward's house, not mine. The curb!" They both shrieked and bounced and Freya fell into giggles. Bella stared, wondering how the jar of red-wine vinegar could possibly still be intact in the back seat. Freya pulled to a jerking halt just inches from Nick's truck, making Bella shriek again.

"Remind me not to ride with you next time," Bella said lightly, though there was nothing funny about it. Her hands trembled.

Freya was unperturbed. "I'll help you carry in the goods. I want to see the inside!"

Freya grabbed several grocery bags while Bella wrestled a sixteen pound turkey under one arm and a bag full of Diet Cokes in the other.

Bella pushed the kitchen door open with her hip and stood in the doorway a moment, eyeing the mail on the counter. A fat stack of legal-sized documents sat atop a manila envelope addressed to Mrs. Katerina Smirth-Daniels. Oh dear. Divorce proceedings.

A postcard with a picture of a cathedral sat on the counter. Double-oh-dear. From Hamburg, Germany.

Tanya was moving west.

Freya nudged Bella's leg with a grocery bag at the same time Bella looked over her shoulder at the sound. The sound of people _doing it_. On the kitchen table. She had thought it was the television.

Bella stared, because she had never actually seen two people having sex before. No, in the four months since leaving home, it never had once occurred to Bella that she could find it on the internet with no parental block to stop her. So she had never seen porn. She had never walked in on (either of) her parents or come upon acquaintances _en_ _flagrante delicato_ in high school. Her only experience was from what contemporary novels had described and what she had done with Edward.

Nick looked ridiculous, his naked butt cheeks contracting above his old jeans and his toolbelt, which hovered miraculously around his kneecaps. Is that what men looked like doing it? It was almost comical. Kate, leaning back on her elbows with her tank top pulled above her bouncing boobs, and her feet in the air, wiggled her fingers in hello, and then put one finger to her lips in a 'shh' motion. Nick was oblivious, and when he shouted out 'OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU', Bella was startled out of her stupor.

Freya wrenched Bella back out the door. They ran to the garage and Bella dropped the turkey in the middle of driveway en route. Freya couldn't stop laughing. "At least it wasn't Edward?" she said.

&8&8&8

It was after Freya departed, still laughing, and after Nick departed, with an expression that was half-panic, half-ecstasy, that Edward arrived, streaking up the drive on the Ducati.

"Hello," she said and "Yeah," he replied. Leaving his helmet on (it was sunny), he grabbed Bella by the wrist and pulled her toward the kitchen door. He scooped up the turkey with the other hand, holding above his head like a waiter's platter and kicked the door open.

He must know already, she thought. Alice.

"WHAT THE HELL, BELLA?" he said, ripping off his helmet. He flung the poor turkey onto the countertop. It was starting to lose its recognizable shape. "You said you could handle the groceries by yourself!"

"WHAT? What's wrong, Edward?"

"What's wrong?" He raked his hand through his hair. "You got into Freya's car!"

"She offered at the last minute!" yelled Bella, uncertain why there was even a need to yell. "She's making the pies!"

"Don't EVER let her drive you again. Not anywhere. Text me in class, call me. Or you drive her."

It all clicked suddenly. Freya's strange behaviour, Edward's comment the other night about a drunk driver. Freya must be the heretofore unnamed alcoholic friend. The one who could kill her in a car accident, in some version of the future Alice had seen. "Oh, Freya," she groaned. "I didn't know. Edward, you should have told me."

"I didn't want to mar your friendship, so early on—" He stopped, midsentence, and slowly waggled his head back and forth. Edward's face had taken on a new expression. One of disbelief. But he was no longer looking at Bella.

"KATE. For FUCK's sake. Is that fantasy or reality in your mind?"

Bella could hear no answer.

"Get down here. _Now_," he said, his voice a low, rumble of thunder, his eyes up to the ceiling.

"YES. NOW."

And then Kate appeared in front of Edward, her arms crossed and her eyes shut tight.

"My FOREMAN," hissed Edward, looming over her. "How could you? HOW COULD YOU. Jesus Christ!"

"Get out of my head," she said, jerking her chin to the side. "It's not your business."

"Oh, but it is. You seduced my foreman when he is THIS CLOSE to finishing the extension. THIS CLOSE." He held his finger and thumb up, nearly touching.

Kate opened her eyes and they glowered at one another, having some silent one-way conversation.

"No, no." Edward shook his head angrily. "Sorry, your divorce is no excuse-"

"I find sex comforting!" she shrieked at a speed that Bella could just follow. "It helps me forget for just a moment that he left me." She put her hands over her face and let out a sob. "Jeremy left me."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," said Edward again. He threw his hands up in frustration and paced right in front of her, passing aggressively close enough to knock her with his elbows, while Kate cried into her hands, her straight blonde hair falling over her face. Bella stayed where she was, still unsure exactly how she felt about it herself. It looked like an insincere betrayal of Jeremy, frankly, even though Kate had no further obligation to him. And what about poor Nick? Was he to suffer the same obsession as Jake now?

"Nick'll be useless now," ranted Edward, as if answering Bella's thoughts. "He'll be crap at everything, because he's busy either mooning or swooning. Bella's already dealing with one devastated victim, whining to her night and day from across the country!"

"Leave the werewolf out of this," snapped Kate. "You don't know it was Irina for sure. You said it yourself, the evidence is circumferential."

"Circumferential. Oh, I like that one." Edward slapped his forehead. "Mon Dieu. La chance de—" Something, something, something. Bella couldn't follow it anymore, as Kate and Edward leapt into rapid, beautiful French. It seemed to get faster and faster, with vampiric snarling and lots of gestures that Bella always associated with French speakers.

Less than forty-five seconds later, Kate disappeared. Bella had blinked and she was gone.

Edward put a hand against the door frame, as if he were trying to collect himself. His chest rose and fell.

Then Bella jumped, because Kate was standing in front of her.

"Au revoir, darling friend," said Kate, with a last gasping sob. She had her rucksack slung over her shoulder.

"You're leaving?" said Bella in surprise. "But...is that necessary?"

Edward nodded _yes_ in the background.

"It's best," agreed Kate. "Best for Nick and for..." She turned and glared at Edward, "...your extension. I don't want to have sex with Nick again – it was a whim, understand? He might commit suicide if I reject him now. Best if he goes searching and doesn't find me."

"Suicide, really?" Bella clutched at her heart.

"Oh yes." She smiled. "PITIFUL CREATURES, men." This was directed at Edward, with a quarter turn of her head to the rear. "Two more tips for you," she whispered, as if Edward couldn't hear them. "Remain eye contact as much as possible." She took hold of Bella's hands.

"Remain eye contact," repeated Bella obediently. Kate was rubbing slow, cool circles on the back of Bella's hands.

"If that doesn't work, speak. Keep talking to him throughout. It keeps him aware of who you are. 'kay?"

"Thank you," whispered Bella.

Kate lean over and kissed Bella on both cheeks, then right on the lips, and Bella felt the short, sharp pull of what must surely be _the gift_. A bolt of energy shot straight to her nether regions and for a ridiculous millisecond, she imagined she was in love with Kate. "Wait..." she said breathlessly. She glanced past Kate's shoulder at Edward. "I have a tip too."

Kate drew back, with a fond, if not slightly patronizing, smile.

Bella walked over and opened Edward's leather jacket to pat on his shirt pocket, with a question in her eyes.

"But it's custom-made," he said, confused.

"Just the address of the manufacturer," pleaded Bella softly. "It's on the case."

Edward searched her face for a moment. Then he nodded his assent and Bella fished the mouthguard case from his pocket.

Bella took a pen and wrote the address on the notecube by the kitchen door. She folded the paper and put it in Kate's hand and leaned in to whisper : "Real kisses. _Anywhere_ you want."

Kate's perfect brows drew together in question for a moment, and Bella gave her a 'you'll see' nod in return. Then Kate was gone.

Thus ended Blonde Visit number two.

&8&8&

"Five stamps. That's all I need. FIVE little stamps." It was the Tuesday before the term ended, and Bella was searching through the kitchen 'junk' drawer, which Edward had already managed to fill with unrelated bits of stuff that really belonged in garage or in the study, despite the fact they had only lived there four months in total.

Bella was sending out minimal Christmas cards: Renee, Jake, Angela and the Cullens. It was all her final exam schedule would allow. Essentials like sleep, food and fooling around with Edward were relegated to the in-between moments when she hit 'save' on one document and 'new' for another. Packing for New York would be done in the hours after her last final; she couldn't even spare it a thought for now.

A successful Thanksgiving dinner had come and gone; a frantic Nick had left in search of Kate, and the bedroom and solar-heated swimming pool sat incomplete. Freya seemed sober most of the time, except for the odd class where she either fell asleep or couldn't stop laughing. They had both achieved B's in Prufrock's class by the approach of the exam. Bella had never been so happy to see a fat, red-penned _B _in her life when he had plopped the paper on her desk.

Edward was cranky for days after Nick's departure and all Nick's employees scattered in fear without the buffer of their employer. Edward attempted to install the light fixtures himself; of course he didn't even bother to turn off the power. She found him in the extension with his hair standing on end, a blackened light fixture in one hand and a stream of obscenities on his lips.

Bella and Edward's trysts became spontaneous and hurried, commencing in whatever room they happened to be in at the moment and often finishing against the red wall, after which they would straighten their clothes and return to their textbooks and laptops. It was clear, however, that lingerie ruled Edward; clad in Bjϋrssen, she could seduce him now if she wanted to. But she didn't. She would take them all to New York though, and see if _he_ came to _her_.

"R.E.S.P.E.C.T. , find out what it means to me," she sang Aretha's anthem, now looking through Edward's desk and opening the skinny drawer on the side. '"R.E.S.P.E.C. - stamps!" There were four stamps, loose in the very back of the drawer. One more was all she needed. Hah, bet there were more that had fallen into the drawer below. She opened the deep lower drawer, which was full of investment prospectuses (prospectii, she wondered? Was that the plural?) and financial reports.

She pushed them aside and spied a velvet case on the floor of the drawer, holding down a sheath of fine paper covered in Edward's scrolling penmanship. Bella froze.

This was perhaps something she wasn't supposed to see. Something private, something hidden. But...she spied her own name. The letters were addressed to her. Carefully, she lifted them out from beneath the brochures, while holding the lush velvet box in the other hand. They were_ drafts_ of letters, with different dates, half-scratched out and begun again, sometimes perfectly measured and evenly spaced, and sometimes scribed at great speed with stray splatters of black ink. She pulled one at random, from the middle of the pile, and read:

_My darling, my dearest Bella,_

_You must know by now that I am helplessly bound to you, whatever your opinion or intentions, whether by your conscious or artless design. All my vampiric power, my empathic gifts, my years of wisdom are obliterated by your single look, your word, your embrace, your yes, your no, your _maybe_. I ask this one thing: please accept this, my mother's ring, as a symbol of my abiding affection, adoration and love. Though you have made it clear that you are not interested in marriage, it is my hope that you will wear this ring on whatever hand you wish as an outward sign of our eternal and solemn commitment to one another._

_I love you. Your Edward._

Bella released a shaky breath. There were perhaps twenty of these letters. They were at turns, poetic and loving, sometimes self-pitying or commanding, sometimes straightforward and almost lawyerly. He asked her to look at the institution of marriage anew or railed at her narrow attitude in one letter. He apologized profusely for not informing her earlier of his encounter with Tanya; had it tainted her view of him forever, he wondered? In another, he attempted to persuade her to agree to an indefinite engagement; she need not make a decision on marriage for a hundred years or more.

When she looked at them in order, the earliest letter– written a day after her birthday – revealed how hurt he had been, how surprised. He had intended to ask for her hand the night of her birthday, he'd written. He'd been "eviscerated" by her comments. _Take the ring anyway; I want you to have it,_ he had scribbled, then had drawn a line through so viciously that it had sliced the paper.

She swiped at the leaking tears on her cheek, and looked at the velvet bag in her other hand. She could not bring herself to violate it, not even for a peek of curiosity. He had been about to ask her? OH, the vicious things she had said! She wiped her wet palm on her pant's leg. It wouldn't do to leave tears on the paper.

On the top of the pile was the most recent letter, written in early November. He had mellowed; he had given up. The word marriage did not even appear, but instead he had resorted only to explaining how he would love her forever, whatever happened, and however she should feel, he would do his best to protect her and ensure she lived her existence, whether human or immortal, to the fullest. The ring was hers to have forever; no promise necessary in return.

"Oh Edward, my Edward," she cried, burying her face in her hands. How small, how stupid, how callow she was. She did not deserve him.

&8&8&8

Author's note: _Hey, where's that action you promised_, you may ask.

Yeah, it's coming. I am trying to be concise. Sort of.

Also, I made a mistake with Bjϋrssen. The U with the dots would not appear in a Swedish word. Apologies to Swedes. I kinda don't want to change it now, or it might confuse people...but will change it throughout once the story is over. Thanks Lotta!


	26. Chapter 26: Good Surprises

Okay, wow, SO sorry to leave you guys for so long. Won't bore you with my excuses but they were real. REAL, I tell you. Angel was my dear beta. All mistakes are my last minute changes, not her omissions.

**BIG ****'OL RECAP:** Kate departs, after relaying a 1968 account of how she rejected Edward in deference to Tanya's claim. Edward gets angry when Bella gets a ride with her tipsy friend Freya. Tanya plagues Edward with disparaging postcards and Jake plagues Bella with his obsession over the mysterious vampire who seduced him. Bella finds Edward's mother's ring, along with a set of emotional letters recounting his smashed hopes for a marriage proposal. They head to NYC for Christmas. Whew!

**Chapter 26: Good Surprise**

"Return it to me unmarked," said Edward, as he emerged from the driver's seat, "and there will be another hundred for you. _Sergio_." Edward held a hundred dollar bill between two raised fingers and stared down at the man. The hotel valet swallowed hard and took it, along with the keys to the Vanquish.

Tips still worked in New York City. Edward had been to Manhattan eighteen times in the last eighty years and he knew how to get service, despite his youthful appearance. He exited the underground garage of the Waldorf Astoria into the chill of a dark winter afternoon and headed south, where Charlie and Sue Clearwater were staying at a mid-price, mid-town, high rise hotel. No way would Edward park _there_. He had dropped Bella off.

He would give Bella an hour alone with Charlie and Sue, enough time for the two females in Charlie's life to acknowledge their relative positions and reacquaint one another before Edward appeared.

Edward crossed over to Fifth Avenue, dodging a taxicab or two. He sampled the festive thoughts of shoppers and passersby as he strolled. Fabulously decorated department store windows competed for attention: the most whimsical, the most elegant, the most outrageous.

He wished Bella would let him buy her beautiful things for Christmas. Edward paused and peered through Bergdorf Goodman's thick plate glass window. Five pairs of dismembered mannequin legs were artfully leaping through a snowy scene, each terminating in strappy, dressy high heels. _Fuck-me-shoes_, Emmett would have called them, a term that used to make Edward cringe. Now he _totally _and_ completely understood_.

All day Bella had unwittingly tortured him on the drive south through New England, with her fingers constantly on the nape of his neck or his bicep or the top of his thigh, as if she were trying to apologize or reassure him of something. Instead it had given him a vaguely pleasant come-and-go erection for nearly four hours. She had been quiet, though. Pensive, even. Maybe because he had somewhat testily asked her to turn off her phone, an obvious anti-Jacob request. Asking for a stop at a roadside motel so Edward could get some relief seemed a little selfish. Maybe tonight?

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," he muttered obscenely at a pair of emerald green spike heels with _Christian Louboutin_ stencilled in the sole. _I want it as much as she does, Monsieur Louboutin,_ thought Edward_. She'll wear them as you intended, I promise. Just not yet. _

"How will I know when I am ready?" he asked under his breath_. _"I want her to enjoy it, not just survive it_._" Edward sighed, leaving a small mark of venom mist on the window. The god of fuck-me shoes had no answers.

&8&8&8

Edward entered the lobby of the Times Square Sheraton and followed his nose to the Swan party of three, seated in low, boxy faux-leather armchairs in the hotel bar. Charlie spotted Edward and rose first.

But what was this? Sue and Charlie's thoughts were quietly rioting and Edward couldn't quite determine the cause. Bella's cheeks were pink. She stood to greet him but her eyes were downcast.

"How are you, Edward?" asked Charlie briskly. "Have you met Sue Clearwater?" Handshakes were exchanged and Edward declined an offer of hot spiced cider. Sue's thoughts leapt around_: cold one cold one I can deal with this I can I will_ and _oh dear Bella didn't take that very well._

Bella glanced at his sleek Bergdorf Goodman bag (he hadn't been able to resist the shoes) but didn't ask. He touched her forearm as they all sat back down. "Everything all right?" he asked softly.

"Sure," Bella murmured with a thin smile. Small talk began, about the drive down from New Hampshire and the Broadway show that Sue and Charlie were planning to see, but Edward could smell Bella's first tear emerge. Then another.

He turned to her and she suddenly stood, in the middle of Sue's sentence, picked up her purse from the floor and left the table, her hand over her mouth.

Both men rose abruptly to their feet, and there was a three-second stare-off. "I've got this one, Edward," said Charlie gruffly. Edward set his jaw and gave a curt nod, then Charlie was gone too.

"What was that about?" muttered Edward. Sue did not miss the snarl in his voice. He read her conviction that vampires wore a very thin veneer of civility beneath a cruel and savage nature.

_Yeah and fuck you_, he thought, all his charitable feelings toward this yuletide family rendezvous evaporating. At moments like this he wanted Bella all to himself. Oh, the concessions to parents, to her new college friends, to that whiny little shit Jacob Black! Even now his own dear sister was waiting in her Gramercy Park apartment, ready to own Bella all evening for a good, long, girly chat.

He could do without them all.

Edward's preferred itinerary would have been 1) a romantic dinner in Little Italy, 2) stolen kisses atop the Rockefeller Observation Deck, followed by 3) Christian Louboutin and Bjϋrssen in the privacy of their Waldorf Astoria room.

Charlie was important to Bella, however, so Edward sank back into his chair and let her father field her tears. He was disinclined to invade Charlie's mind and eavesdrop; this would be an invasion of Bella's privacy. He tapped his fingers on the armrest and glared out the window.

_She was fine until you arrived,_ thought Sue, twisting her wedding ring round and round her finger.

_Fuck you again_, thought Edward. He waited impatiently for the replay in Sue's mind of whatever conversation had upset Bella so. However, Sue was thinking of Charlie and some scenario back in Forks when they had announced to Leah and Seth that –

"Ah. You're engaged," stated Edward, turning toward her. It was an engagement ring, not her old wedding ring that she twisted on her finger.

"Yes," Sue replied, startled. "We just told Bella."

Edward nodded, as if it all made sense now, and returned his gaze to the window. His dead heart ached dully in his chest.

_Oh God_, thought Sue, _is this the one that sees the future? No, Leah said that was a female. This _obviously_ isn't the one that makes you feel all mellow. Oh shit, this is the mindreader. The mindreader! Can you read my mind right now? _She stared at Edward's scowling profile. _Testing testing one two three. Testing testing—_

"One, two, three," supplied Edward, snorting. "Yes, I'm the mindreader."

"Well." She recoiled slightly. "That's awkward."

Sue's mind, caught in the headlights, immediately leapt to thoughts she should conceal from Edward: a conversation where Charlie had called Edward 'arrogant', another where Leah had confessed a minor crush on Edward. Irretrievably, she wondered whether Edward knew how much Bella was supporting Jacob emotionally.

"I am well aware of it," he said coolly, without looking at Sue.

"Sorry!" She covered her forehead with her hand, as if it would block his ability.

"Relax, Mrs. Clearwater, and I will be able to more easily tune you out."

"It's Sue." She sat back in her chair and went back to twisting her ring. "You see, Bella is the only voice of reason among some very hot heads," she explained.

"It's not my concern."

"Jake would have quit his senior year and run off to find this …this _woman—"_

"I beg your pardon," Edward interrupted, swinging his head around to her. "Not. Interested."

This shut her up. Sue was not offended, however. She preferred an honest encounter over a hypnotic vampiric charm. After a few minutes Sue's mind eased, her concerns returning to Charlie and Bella's feelings. She yearned for a comfortable, respectful friendship with her future daughter-in-law, even if that included accepting _the enemy_ as Bella's boyfriend. Tolerance and a practical sort of generosity underpinned all Sue's musings. Edward inwardly retracted his _fuck you_'s.

"Don't take Bella's reaction personally," said Edward after a while. "It is more likely a protest against the institution of marriage. Bella likes you very much."

"Oh. That's…that's good." She blinked at him. "Thanks for saying so. It was a spontaneous decision." Her face broke into a genuine smile. "It took us both by surprise. Sometimes you just have to go for it. Follow your gut instinct. You know?"

Edward swallowed; he could not answer. "They're back," he said gruffly.

Bella's eyes were red, her cheeks blotchy, but she smiled at Edward as she and Charlie sat back down.

"Everything all right?" Edward asked again, searching her face.

"Yeah," she said, squeezing his hand. Her expression was almost fierce. "Everything."

8&8&8&8&

Edward sat on Alice's sofa, with Bella's head in his lap. He glanced at his watch. 2 :25 a.m. Bella's chest rose and fell gently.

"Hey." He interrupted his sister, who was yammering about all the great scarves Bella could get in the city and if she were going to make it her signature look then, well, it ought to be Hermes scarves, as there was no comparison—

"_Alice_," he chided, "Bella's asleep."

"Oh!" Alice's face fell. "Oh. I guess it's late for a human."

"Bella's had a trying day," replied Edward at a low volume. He brushed a wayward lock from her forehead. "Charlie's engagement was a bit of a shock."

"Bit of a shock to you, too," said Alice sympathetically. Her thoughts leapt to Bella's birthday and the aborted proposal.

Edward visibly flinched.

"Sorry…sorry," said Alice, shifting her thoughts hastily. "And I'm sorry I wasn't more help that day. I was at the Gaultier show… no phones allowed…"

"Yeah, you told me." He shrugged, a poor attempt at nonchalance. They sat in silence for a long second, each in expectation of the other.

"She's just young, Edw—"

"I don't want to talk about it," he snapped.

Jasper raised his eyebrows from behind his desktop Mac, and Edward shot him a warning look. Jasper held his hands up in innocence; he would not mess with Edward's mood tonight.

"I am surprised you didn't foresee Charlie's engagement," said Edward, turning back to Alice. "Is it because Sue carries the werewolf gene?"

"Hm, maybe," Alice replied. "I rarely watch Charlie. And _you_ don't want me watching you two," she added, the corner of her mouth quirking.

"Alice is occupied enough watching Bella's alcoholic friend," muttered Jasper none-too-quietly from his corner. "Day and night."

"And I am grateful," said Edward, softening. He gave a respectful bow of his head to his sister. "We will prevent this car accident, by God."

_By Alice, you mean__,_ amended Jasper in his head.

"Jaz," groused Edward. "Are you going to join us or just comment from the peanut gallery?"

"I'm busy hacking, thank you. Protecting our vampire asses." Jasper grinned and Edward could see (on the screen, through Jasper's head) that Jasper was deep in the bowels of the Social Security database. Ah, creating more Cullen, Hale, Whitlock and McCarty personas for the future.

"We _will_," said Alice, returning to topic. "Absolutely. I don't mind, Edward. I love her too, you know." Alice smiled at her brother, marvelling a little at the way he touched Bella's hair, the way he cocked his head and gazed down at her, his eyes full of tenderness. He was a man transformed by love. He was both more tolerant and more fierce, more relaxed and yet more purposeful. He had a rhythm and rhyme to his existence now.

"That's good, because I have another request," said Edward tentatively.

"Oh." Then she knew it before he asked. "Tanya."

"I know you are busy with your internship," apologized Edward, "but Tanya persists with her messages—long beyond her usual attention span –and she is moving west now."

"What kind of messages?" asked Jasper curiously, his eyes still on his computer. "Threatening?"

"Vaguely," answered Edward. "They are advisory. Cryptic. _Concerned_."

"Well, she does care for you, in her own egocentric fashion." Jasper typed on, his fingers flying. "Maybe you are reading too much into them."

"Or it's the opposite and I am underestimating them. You should see the inside of her mind, Jasper. She is complex. Old. She has many agendas going at once, and half of them are deceptions of one kind of another."

"Yeah," he drawled, "but you two have a long history of sparring with words. Is it an agenda this time… or just a game?"

"Who knows?" exclaimed Bella suddenly, in her sleep. "Either way. Yes, it would. It would make me very happy." She smiled and nodded, responding to a dream conversant. "Please do."

The three vampires chuckled, and Jasper even stopped his typing to listen.

"My only insight into her mind," said Edward softly. He let his hand hover for a moment, hoping for a few more words.

Alice emitted a breathy squeak, even as her eyes lost focus. "Bella's making decisions," she whispered. "In her sleep."

"Is she?" Edward peered down at Bella, fascinated. Her eyes worked beneath lavender-tinged lids, her eyebrows conducting an entire conversation.

"Your future is changing even now, Edward Anthony Masen Cullen." Alice clapped her hand over her mouth, unable to conceal her glee.

"Oh _rea_lly," intoned Edward, turning a piercing gaze to his sister. "Hey. I feel you blocking me, Mary Alice Brandon Whitlock."

"No previews." Alice steeled her mind, repeating French nursery rhymes in her head at high velocity. "It's um, not that big a deal," she said, winking at Jasper.

She was practically trembling with delight in her upholstered club chair. It obviously _was _a big deal. Jasper abandoned his computer and came over to join them, pulling Alice into his lap and grinning.

Edward stifled a laugh. Alice's romantic enthusiasm was contagious. He stroked Bella's hair again and allowed himself some moments of pleasurable speculation about their life together. Bella's happiness was paramount, whether as a human or vampire. Perhaps God had set aside a measure of happiness for Edward, too.

He would not allow Tanya to taint it. Her messages, even if only a mean-spirited game, were decidedly anti-Bella.

"About Tanya..." he persisted.

Alice raised her head from Jasper's shoulder. "She won't hurt Bella," she reminded him. "Not physically."

"Clarify, please. You _foresee_ she won't? Or is that your opinion?"

"My opinion. Tanya is a pain in the ass to predict; there are too many outcomes. But she is quite straight and narrow about humans and violence. She won't tolerate a single transgression, even in her own coven."

"And yet," said Edward pointedly, "she will remorselessly kill a vampire to suit her needs. All her texts and emails nag me about the inconstancy of humans. It's like she is goading me to change Bella."

"What, change her to kill her?" said Jasper. "And risk Cullen wrath? Nah. Maybe this is some sort of reverse psychology, to keep Bella human."

Alice leaned her cheek alongside Jasper's, thinking. "Tanya is passionately opposed to changing humans. It is the reason she is angry at Carlisle. And you, Edward."

"Well…" said Edward slowly, "I've been thinking about this. I may have angered her more fundamentally." He ran his fingers through his hair.

"Oh?"

Edward heaved a sigh. "This past summer, while Bella was in Florida, I shared a mountain lion with Tanya."

"_What?"_ exclaimed Jasper, jerking to attention. "Why? That's practically asking her to have sex with you."

"That was the point, though," said Edward patiently. "_Not_ to ask her. I fed, completely unaffected by her. I wanted to demonstrate that she was powerless over me, undesirable to me, even in the most erotic of circumstances. I was able to walk away cheerfully with a 'see ya back at the ranch'."

Jasper whistled low and long. "That was a royal middle-finger salute. And to the queen of succubii. Jesus, Edward." _Did you really say see you back at the ranch?_

"No."

Alice nodded, getting it now. "Tanya has been biding her time for forty years, waiting for a vulnerable moment," she said, "but now you have Bella, to whom you've offered eternity. Most devastating, though, is your mocking demonstration that Tanya's gift has no effect on you."

"Yes and yes. And yes."

"Tanya has lost this particular game," concluded Alice, her eyes widening.

"Uh, I don't think 'defeat' is in Tanya's vocabulary," said Jasper soberly. "If anything Edward has waved the red flag in front of the bull."

"I agree," said Edward, meeting Jasper's eyes.

They were silent for a moment, their respective gifts pulling on one another in a complementary, consensus-building process, while their oblivious human charge – Bella – slept peacefully on.

"Alice. Will you watch Tanya?"

Alice gave a small, wary smile. She nodded.

&8&8&8&

The New Hampshire snow was deep and thick and even, so the mailbox on its post appeared to be perched on an Edward-shovelled mound of white. Bella was laughing uncontrollably into her cell phone. "Stop it, _stop saying that_, you're going to make me slip and fall in the snow." No one could make her laugh harder, she'd recently decided.

She pried open the frozen lid and switched her phone to the other ear. The mailbox was empty, which meant Edward had already collected. She glanced toward the house.

"Enough, enough! Okay, I should go. I am coming into hearing range BYE." She pushed 'end', still chuckling. As she picked her way up the stone steps, she heard the sudden jarring pound of discordance on the piano, like Beethoven's Fifth, but with some of the notes wrong.

Bella crept into the house, removed her snow boots and lowered her backpack to the floor; she didn't like to disturb Edward when he was playing, but rather liked to watch his form from the sofa. He knew she was there, of course, but he didn't pause. It was one of these 'modern' compositions, she felt sure, because she didn't like it.

"What was that?" she teased, when he brought it to a close. "Anger Number Four in B flat?"

"Something like that," he muttered, inviting her to sit beside him. He curled his fingers around her waist and kissed her hello. "Sonata in Jealousy for Piano."

She drew back to look at him. "Jealousy?"

"He makes you laugh," grumbled Edward. "I can't make you laugh like that."

Bella's eyes widened. "Who?"

Edward's brows knit together. "Are you going to pretend you weren't talking to him just now? The mongrel."

"Oh! _Jake_." Bella smiled at him sympathetically. Edward took it so hard, her friendship with Jacob Black. "I wasn't talking to Jake."

"I heard you: '_I am coming into hearing range BYE_'." Edward exhaled and withdrew his arm. "I know I am not particularly tolerant," he said through his teeth, "but you shouldn't feel you have to hide your conversations with him from me."

"_Edward_," she said calmly. Bella stood for a moment, then climbed over his lap, straddling him precariously on the piano bench, so that he had to wrap his arm around her to keep her from sliding off. "It wasn't Jake."

He waited for a further explanation, but she only put her fingers into his hair and kissed his nose. "Don't worry. Just hold me; this feels nice."

"Last summer," he reminded her, not ready to yield, "we agreed to be honest with one another. No secrets."

"True," she said, squirming a little inside. Bella did carry a secret. Well, it was more like a decision than a secret. She had no idea how to reveal it, how or when to broach the subject with Edward. It had come on like a tidal wave, when she had cried in front of Charlie in the lobby, while he awkwardly tried to explain his sudden and intense relationship with Sue Clearwater. The next morning when Bella woke up in Alice's apartment, it was all crystal clear. The conundrum had become the _how_ and not the _what_.

"But we never said 'no surprises'," she said, brightening. "What if I want to do something nice? A _good_ surprise."

He narrowed his eyes. "Surprises are overrated," he said darkly, giving in. He wrapped his arms fully around her waist. "Don't keep things from me. I am a possessive and jealous vampire." He pulled her hips close, so that they fit tight together. "You're mine. Mine mine mine." He sounded like a two-year-old, but he didn't care.

"Of course I am," she sighed, slinging her arms over his shoulders.

"Who was making you laugh?" he persisted.

She shook her head in refusal. "It's a _surprise_. Anyway, you're being a hypocrite. You keep things from me."

"Like what?" he challenged, pushing her hair back from her shoulder.

"Two weeks ago I told you Freya's VW suffered some mysterious mechanical failure, and you said nothing more than 'uh-huh'."

"Uh-huh," he agreed, lowering the zipper on her winter coat.

"Well, guess what happened today?"

"I have no idea. Tell me." He slipped his hand under the hem of her sweater. _Mine_, he thought, touching her skin.

"You know exactly," she accused. "Freya won a Volvo in a charity raffle. A VOLVO."

"No kidding." He palmed the small of her back and let the other hand slip to her ass. _Mine_. "A reliable, safe car."

"_You_ arranged it," she said sternly, trying unsuccessfully to push his hand away. "_Tell me_," she insisted when he didn't answer. "Somehow it was you."

"Okay." He shrugged. "It was me. And Alice. Jasper,too. Esme helped."

"So practically everyone knew!" she said irritably. "But I've _told_ you I wouldn't get in Freya's car."

A shadow crossed Edward's face. "The vision wouldn't go away, sweetheart. There must have been some future decision compelling you to get into her car. And Alice wanted me to try a small change of conditions first, rather than something drastic."

"Something drastic," Bella repeated warily.

"Oh, I could easily create a reason to get Freya back to Wisconsin. Or get her kicked out of Dartmouth."

"But," she spluttered. "Poor Freya! That's cruel…unthinkable!"

"As were the consequences of you riding in her tin-can Volkswagon," he said darkly.

Bella considered this for a moment, while she absently ran her finger up and down the buttons of his shirt. He waited to see if she was going to suggest turning her, as this was her usual go-to solution whenever danger presented itself.

"Okay," she nodded at last. "I don't like you and Alice organizing and strategizing without my input and gosh, you know, messing with the natural course of fate, but I can hardly complain if you're saving my life. How in the world did you fix Freya's win?"

"Bella-sweet." He pressed her palm over his dead heart, like he was making a pledge. "I would move mountains, turn the course of rivers, dethrone kings and subvert governments to keep you on this planet with me. A charity raffle is a walk in the park."

"Thank you, I guess?" She shook her head in wonder. It was nice to be so loved, by such a capable man. "Next time let me be a part of Team Butterfly, so you don't, you know, bring about the apocalypse."

He chuckled. "Unless changing Freya's car _prevents_ the Apocalypse."

"Whatever. Hey," she said suddenly. "What is this?" Peeking out of his shirt pocket was another damn postcard. He clamped his hand over it.

"No secrets," she said.

Edward sighed. "No secrets," he agreed reluctantly, letting her tug it from his pocket.

He had torn it in half. She lined it up again. Though it had no title across the front, the photos of windmills, wooden shoes and tulips gave away its origin. "The Netherlands," she said.

Bella turned it over. Tanya's handwriting. "It's in …Dutch?"

He nodded and involuntarily tightened his hold.

"But you don't speak Dutch. Do you?"

"Some. Enough."

For some reason this pissed her off. Edward and Tanya both knew Dutch. Yet another commonality, another part of the historical, vampirical, linguistic, and political links they shared. "Translate."

"It's offensive. I don't want to."

"Translate. _Please_," she added, brushing his forearm.

"It's from a 1915 letter published in a biography of Mata Hari."

"And?"

"'From those same pretty lips comes treachery; she will bed your enemy as she bedded you.'"

&8&8&

Next chapter up immediately. Read on, reader!


	27. Chapter 27: I'm ready

**Chapter 27: I'm ready**

Bella's 'good surprise' came stomping nosily into the foyer a week later. "Don't you ever lock your doors?" he bellowed into the house.

"Jesus Christ!" Edward slid into the hall on his stocking feet, his mouth open, a textbook in his hand.

"No, just me. But I _am_ a carpenter," quipped Emmett, pointing to himself and smirking. The two brothers embraced, slapping one another on the back.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I've been summoned, bro, by your other half. The solar pool, the lights, the plumbing. 'Cause you're shit-useless."

8&8&

For the next week Emmett seemed to fill every corner of their quiet, studious household with his cheer and noisy industry. He had the pool pump and filter up and running within a day, and he dared Edward onto the frozen surface before canon-balling through the ice with a window-rattling roar. He and Edward proceeded to hurl lethal-looking chunks of ice at one another which exploded upon impact against their hard bodies. When an underwater wrestling match lasted more than five minutes, Bella couldn't stand the idea of Edward being unable to breathe and she poked them with the pool net until they finally came out and lay on the side, laughing and insulting one another with the worst language Bella had ever heard fall from Edward's lips.

One evening Emmett interrupted a creative-writing session with his truly terrible suggestions ('and the kid turns out to be an alien!', 'they're attacked by a plague of locusts!', 'and he travels back in time and meets Sherlock Holmes!") until he had all Bella's friends either laughing or rolling their eyes, reluctantly charmed.

"Sherlock Holmes is fictional," muttered Edward from the other room, but none of the humans heard him.

When Emmett needed two other pairs of hands to stretch and affix the wallcovering over the bouncy red wall, Bella found herself blushing through the entire session. Whenever Bella was out of earshot, Emmett teased Edward mercilessly about his still-intact virginity, especially when the bedframe and custom-made mattress were delivered. "NO EXCUSE NOW!" he said, punching Edward painfully in the arm.

However, when Bella approached Emmett with a highly embarrassing request, he was helpful and discreet, and they somehow managed to discuss it without once referring to its purpose.

"So it works just like a car seatbelt," explained Emmett, showing her where he had bolted the strap into a recess on the side of the bedframe. "But the belt has a little more elasticity in it. You can tighten it as much as you like." He held up the buckle, which was an actual car buckle mechanism.

"It says Aston Martin on it," she laughed nervously.

"It's vintage. Found it in a box in the garage. Nothing but the best for my brother," Emmett said, winking. He smiled broadly at Bella. "You are red as a Washington Loganberry."

This only made her blush harder.

"It's a good idea, Bella. Really. Safety first, right? It'll make him less gun-shy."

Bella scuttled quickly out of the bedroom while Emmett finished up, whistling and gleefully imagining the ribbing he was going to give Edward later for this one.

Emmett's presence acted as a cheerful distraction, so much so that Edward forgot his usual obsessive tracking of the frequency of Jake's texts. Further, neither Edward nor Bella noticed that Tanya hadn't sent a postcard, a text or an email for almost two weeks.

So when Alice texted Edward with the good news, it was a complete surprise.

_A vampire?_ he repeated, his thumbs moving at high speed. _Really?_

_Yh. A Norw__eign man. Nwborn-ish. A few months turned when they met. Shell try 2 turn him vegetrn, as far as I can c._

._Is it serious?_ he typed.

_The outcomes r always vague w/ Tnya, but Im going 2 venture a Y__ES on that 1._

Alice was too impatient even for predictive text_. _It drove him crazy.

_Thank God,_ he replied._ What a relief. What a f***ing relief_.

He'd get a century (or more) reprieve! He gave a strangled whoop of triumph, and both his Physical therapy study partners looked up, startled. Edward grinned back at them like an idiot.

8&8

That night was scheduled Emmett's departure, and Bella came home to a serene and smiling Edward, standing in the foyer. "I thought I'd find you in a blue mood, with Emmett leaving," commented Bella, tucking her arm through his. She was a little concerned that Edward would consider her rather dull after Emmett's laugh-a-minute visit.

"I've had some good news from Alice today," he murmured in her ear. "I'll tell you later."

"Edward wants you all to himself again," said Emmett, coming down the hallway and setting his bags by the door. "The extension's finished, the bathroom's done, and the pool's probably warm enough now for a human. And my Rosie is calling me home."

"Thanks Emmett," said Edward earnestly, holding out his hand. "I couldn't have done it without you. I couldn't have done it at all, actually."

"True facts, bro. No problemo." Emmett shook Edward's hand but then pulled them both into a bear like embrace, with a gutteral 'hawwh, hawwh'.

"Thanks, _bro_," laughed Bella from beneath Emmett's massive arm. Emmett didn't even have to tell a joke to make her laugh.

"You strap him in and show him who's boss, Bella," he said in a stage whisper.

"Emmett!" she shrieked, horrified, and then he suddenly was gone, his rental Jeep sliding out of the driveway.

Edward shut the door on the snowy night, turned around and said, with a certain gleam in his eye: 'It's a double celebration, my girl. The house is finished and She-who-must-not-be-named is no longer a menace."

"She isn't?" gasped Bella.

He nodded. "What is your preference, Miss Swan? Vegetable tagine with a glass of wine? Homework, poetry, fiction?" He stepped toward her, his voice low and velvety. "Pool…wall?" he whispered, running his index finger down her arm. "Or straight to the bed?"

&8&8&8&

They were giddy and laughing and kissing and touching. Bella broke the kiss to whisper, "Lie back." When she pulled a seat belt from nowhere, he could only gape at her. She pulled it across his hips, and by some trick he could not fathom, there was an Aston Martin buckle on the other side of the bedframe. She giggled breathlessly and tightened the strap over his hips, careful to avoid the erection straining against his boxers.

"What the… how did you…?"

"Emmett installed it. Is this too… I don't know… too _kinky_ for you?"

"No. Oh, God, Emmett?" he croaked with embarrassment. "What are you doing now?" She was fully dressed still but now she had stripped off his boxers. She tightened the belt further.

"I want you to, um, hold on to it."

"The sseatbelt?"

"No, your hard on."

He raised his head from the bed to level a gaze at her. "If you think I am going to sstrroke myself in front of you," he said, suspiciously, "you're misstaken."

"No, no," she laughed. "Not that. Just…relax. And hold it still. Firm."

"It's firm," he joked.

She crawled back up to kiss his lips, his neck, his chest, his nipples. He groaned and pulled at her sweater.

"Off," he moaned. "Take it off."

"I'll put on the Bjurssen in a minute," she whispered. "And some heels. Now: hand on your thing. Two hands if necessary. Just leave me the tip."

"'kay," Edward agreed, his voice breaking. "My _thing_," he chuckled.

"Close your eyes."

"Uh, is this safe? What is your plan exactly?

She ignored his question and moved down to her goal. Tanya had said that, as a human, Bella would never be able to give him a blow job. Bella wanted to assert her _right of choice_ in the matter. It wasn't out of revenge or the need to prove anything this time. It was for Edward. She wanted to be able to do this for him, ecstasy-by-mouth, as he did it to her now on a regular basis.

She eyed her prize. At least an inch of penis head emerged from his fist. Well, it was the head that was the most sensitive, right? Kate had told her this, in shocking detail. Bella took a nervous breath second then went in for the win.

"Fuck me!" he shouted in surprise when her mouth closed on the head; immediately he came in her mouth.

Bella recoiled, pursing her lips together to keep the stuff from running down her chin. Her eyes were wide. She covered her mouth with both hands.

"Sorry! Shit," he cried, mortified. "Sorry, sorry."

She ran to the bathroom, and he heard her spit into the sink.

"Shit," he muttered again, putting his hand over his eyes. Now _that_, he thought, _was premature ejaculation_. Edward waited, sitting up but still strapped in.

Eventually, Bella came around the corner and leaned in the doorway. "You'd think," she said wryly, "that it would taste bad. Or at least taste _funny_. It didn't. It's just venom, right?"

"_Just_ venom." His tone was ironic. "I…I don't know what to say. You caught me by surprise."

"A _good_ surprise?" she asked.

His face split into a smile. "Hell yes."

They stared at each other in the twilight, a look of mutual anticipation building again between them. She cocked her head. "Can we try it again?" she said shyly.

8&8

Edward studied his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. An unfamiliar smug expression sat happily and obviously on his face.

True, Edward had ripped apart another Bjϋrssen that night. This was unrelated to fellatio session-number-two, where he managed to hold off his orgasm for at least three glorious minutes. He had delivered two himself, once courtesy of his fingers and once courtesy of his mouth. Edward felt a particular liberation on this high-tech foam mattress (no spring coils would gouge her spine), with no headboard (to accidentally bash into) and a bouncy wall (as an alternative), and he had aggressively pursued her pleasure this evening. Her squeaks, moans and sighs were pretty good indications he had succeeded.

Kate's suggestion to 'remain eye contact' had been good advice, particularly when Bella had slid his cock along her Bjϋrssen -bare labia. So slick, so perfect! He had made feral noises and ripped at her Bjϋrssen without a single civilized thought in his head. Watching Bella's face, listening to her speak (well, she had to shout at first), had brought him back to the here and now.

_You're almost ready, _he encouraged his reflection in the bathroom mirror. But where? And how? Edward had just last night come across a woodland clearing that made him pause. The arrangement of trees, the south-facing aspect, the difficult access – it all reminded him of a favourite meadow on the other side of the country. He visited again in the daytime when Bella was occupied in class. He wanted to confirm… to confirm what exactly? It's suitability? It's Elysian quality? In the spring it would be transformed. A scenario was building in his mind, a delightful fantasy, but it was still in its infancy.

Edward bent his head over the sink and washed the smell of her sex off his face (she wouldn't kiss him otherwise). He slipped on some pajama bottoms and came back into the bedroom to find her on her side, wrapped in the down coverlet, staring out the French windows at the softly-lit swimming pool. Snow was falling again, creating a mounded white frame around the reflective rectangle of the water.

"It's beautiful," she said wistfully. "And this room is beautiful." She took in a blue-tinted view of his naked chest as he came back across the room. "But you are the mostbeautiful of all."

He chuckled and lay down again, atop the covers. "I cannot possibly agree to that statement when you are in the room." She turned around to face him, and they lay together with the covers bunched between them. He toyed with the scarf around her neck. "Don't fall asleep in this," he said. She untied it and he had to look away for a moment. He so rarely saw her bare neck these days and he almost found it obscene when he did so.

Her skin was porcelain white in this light. The falling snowflakes sparkled behind her and he imagined for a moment that they were outside, somewhere in the wilderness, both vampires, dusted by the silent snow but untouched by cold or discomfort. Did he want that? He didn't know. She was so perfect to him now.

"There is _grandeur_ in the arch of your brow," he whispered, following it with his finger, "and _art_ in the swoop of your nose. Honey in your lips and double cream in your skin."

Bella sighed with pleasure, blushing a little. She was tempted, _oh she was tempted_, to say it here and now, without any mental preparation. She loved him and she was ready. She was ready! But the words didn't come; she couldn't think of a worthy opening line.

"I love you, Edward" she said instead, the swell of emotion catching in her throat. She stretched forward and kissed his lips.

"I love you, my Bella." He was perfectly still, watching her. Only his eyes moved, tracing her face, her hands tucked under her cheek, her bare shoulder.

She tried to match his stillness, to stare unmoving into the depth of his eyes_. I'm ready_, she thought. _I'm ready_. After five minutes of this she drifted off to sleep.

In Bella's dreams she re-read all his letters, though she couldn't quite make out the actual words. She cried for him, since he kept his anguish to himself. She picked up the velvet bag and felt the ring, hard and cold, through the fabric. She dreamt she held the bag up and tried to ask him the question.

The words sat garbled on her tongue. When they finally emerged they were in a foreign language, one that only Tanya could translate. Then Tanya was suddenly there, dressed in white, a substitute for Bella in Edward's embrace, telling lies at a speed that Bella could not understand.

8&8&8&8&.


	28. Chapter 28: In the Meadow

**RECAP:**With Emmett's help, the bedroom and pool are complete. Edward and Bella do everything but the ultimate act. Alice 'sees' Tanya with a new lover, a recent newborn vampire, and Edward is relieved. The harassing letters cease. Bella and Edward both feel ready… but for what? Read on!

**Chapter 28: In the Meadow**

It was the freshest green one could imagine, this haze of leaves above him. Edward breathed deeply, letting the sweet, fecund smell of _Spring_fill his lungs.

He stepped forward to the edge of the bluestone terrace and scanned the trees behind their house. As the highest creature on the local food chain, Edward felt this woodland was histerritory and hishunting ground. Yet the birds and mammals and even the insects pursued their spring-mad courting, fucking, and squawking, indifferent to his preciously held-virginity. Today he would join them – hah! – all going well. His hands shook a little; he was ridiculously nervous. He shoved them in his pockets.

"Got everything?" Bella asked, joining him out the back door and giving his backpack a pat.

Edward nodded. "Yeah. It will be fine," he said absently. Alice had said it would all be _just __fine_. Nevermind that the new meadow had no foam mattress, no restraining seatbelts, no bouncy wall. There would be no Bjurssen to keep Bella warm and cover her pulse points, either.

"_Whoa_," he said, when he turned to her at last. "Hello." He had been expecting jeans and sneakers. A skirt if he were lucky.

Bella coloured slightly.

She wore a white eyelet strapless dress, a short white cashmere sweater (Alice had informed her that it was a 'shrug') to cover her arms, and a pale blue scarf tied around her neck. Bella had stood in front of the mirror this morning for thirty minutes, all her self-confidence draining away as she fiddled with her scarf and hiked up her thigh-high, lace-topped leggings. Starting to panic, she texted Alice: _White __eyelet, __Alice? __In __2009? __To __a __picnic?_

_He __will __love __it,_ was Alice's response and that was enough.

I love this on you," he said softly, as if on cue, fingering the fabric at her hip. "It's…it's _white_." _Virginal, _he almost said. She looked fresh and radiant. So delicate, so _bruisable_, like the petals of a pristine white narcissus flower.

Bella let out a breath of relief. "It's not too juvenile, right?"

"Definitely not juvenile," he said, his eyes sweeping blatantly over her. Her breasts were pushed up a little by whatever strapless undergarment she was wearing beneath and a lock of her brown hair terminated in a curl just where her nipple must be. "You are all woman," he said, lifting an eyebrow. "Not a girl in sight."

"Good." She slipped a tiny pocketbook-on-a-chain across her shoulder and straightened. "Are you ready?"

"God, _am __I_," he muttered, scooping her up and taking off into the woods.

&8&8&8

"_WHAT_ is that?" Bella suppressed a giggle. "Alice."

"_Alice_," he agreed, annoyed, setting Bella on her feet. Alice had replaced his simple setup – blanket, guitar, picnic basket – with a tent. No, a _pavilion._All in green and white linen and gossamer netting that waved in the breeze. There were a thousand pillows and a low table with a spectacular spread of bread and olives and expensive cheeses that he could smell through the cellophane and coolpaks from across the clearing.

"Does this mean she is nearby?"

"She'd better be long gone by now," he growled. "I'm tempted to take us elsewhere, just to defy her."

"No, don't…this reminds me of our meadow!" exclaimed Bella suddenly, grasping his forearm. "It's the arrangement of the trees…or that rock outcrop or _something_."

"I thought so too," replied Edward, pleased. "It is the peace of the place, perhaps. It feels sheltered. Private."

Bella's stomach growled just then and that decided it.

"Fine. I give in," he said aloud, speaking more to Alice than to Bella. "Impertinent, meddling pixie-witch."

Bella laughed and pulled on his hand; they crossed the meadow. They explored Alice's offering, finding a spread of food for about six people, a battery-powered espresso machine, an iPod with its docking station and… weirdly, a metronome. Edward furtively eyed the mountain of pillows. Yes, that would be the safest spot for a de-flowering.

He would have to get the flower's consent of course. _That_ he knew how to do. Edward smirked and sat down, cross-legged, across from her.

Bella had already started in on the food, all the while chatting about their grade prospects for the spring term. Edward might make his first 'B'—ever—on his Patient Communication Project, as the little old lady who was his case study was terrified of him. Today, he could care less, but Bella voiced several ideas, to which he nodded and _hmm_'d a vague agreement.

He poured her a glass of white wine and she didn't even protest, taking a small sips between sentences. He watched her, mesmerized by the spring light on her hair and skin. Would she look different afterwards? Would he? A brief stab of conscience for her virtue came …and passed.

"You're very quiet," she observed suddenly.

"And you're unusually noisy," he teased, smiling across the table at her. "Something making you nervous?"

"No!" she exclaimed, dropping a wedge of brie. Bella cleared her throat and peeled the soft cheese off the table. "Yeah, actually. Impending exams. And Professor Prufrock. I want an A on my damn short story."

"I think you'll get it this time." He moved to her side of the table and lifted her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Your prose manages to be both concise and beautiful. Occasionally surprising."

"Oh?" She gave his shirt collar a short, sharp tug. "You told me none of this when you checked it for typos."

He gave a begrudging nod. "I was being a good non-enabler. Jasper would be proud of me."

She considered this for a second. "Yeah, he would. You've been _completely_ unhelpful this term. Distracting me with good cooking and all that noisy vacuuming? And how selfish of you to focus on your own degree."

"Indeed," he said dryly. Truthfully, Edward had never been so relaxed about his studies. His own success was a pale pleasure next to his witness to the blossoming of Bella's capable mind under Dartmouth's tutelage.

Surprising, you said?" she asked curiously. "I'm kind of pleased that I can surprise a century-old vampire." She glanced down at her little purse, now sitting just to the left of Edward's foot.

"I'm not so arrogant to believe I cannot learn something new, whether from fragile octogenarians at the Physical Therapy unit or my own live-in freshman Lit major." He leaned forward and brushed his lips across bare skin, between her scarf and her pale décolleté'. He felt the first stirrings of desire.

Bella, however, was now nudging her purse out from beneath their feet.

"_Hey_. Tell me you don't have your phone in there." Edward nodded at the purse. "And therefore, _him_."

Bella jerked her attention back to Edward's face. "I didn't bring my phone. _He_ is on the other side of the country. Anyway, he isn't speaking to me."

"Oh? Really?"

"Don't sound so happy," she chided him, amused. "I made the mistake of confiding my worries about…well, _her_. She-who-must-not be named and her two equally sexy sisters. Jake now thinks I've been hiding something. He wants a photo of the Denali girls, to be sure his Layla isn't one of them. I said no."

"_Layla_? Layla." Something flickered in Edward's expression.

"That's got to be a fake name, don't you think?"

"Hm," he said. Edward tightened his hold on Bella. "You can confide your worries to me, you know," he said, feeling a little hurt. "Or Alice."

"Well, I happen to think Tanya is in love with you. You disagree. So discussion is moot." She waved her hand dismissively.

"In love?" he said, taken aback. "No, Bella. Tanya covets what she can't have, then she becomes bored when she can't _acquire_ me, and the cycle repeats itself."

"See?" she said, choosing another raspberry and popping it in her mouth. "You don't agree. Did you know she is in Nova Scotia now, teaching Sven to hunt animals and resist people like a good vegetarian should?"

"Yes, I knew." Edward's face grew serious. "I am not naïve, Bella, but optimistic. Her new vampire mate – assuming they _are_ truly mated – could occupy her for eternity."

"She will come and visit you," Bella blurted, suddenly worried. "As soon as she decides _when_. And Alice says Tanya is an unknown after that! A blank – or a montage of endless possibilities."

"Alice told me the same," he said, wryly. "I see we've been having the same conversation on the sly. You are not present in this vision, which reassures me. You won't have to see her or her mate."

Bella jiggled her leg a little, frowning.

"Your safety is foremost in my mind, my love," he said, stilling her knee. "I can handle Tanya," he concluded. He took Bella's face in his hands. "You handle Professor Prufrock."

"Hm. All right." Bella sighed and leaned into his hands. "I didn't mean to bring _her_ up at all today, you know? It's such a gorgeous day and…and…" She collapsed against his neck, as though exhausted by it all. "Distract me, will you?"

It was all the prompt he needed. "Happily." Edward stood, lifting her bridal style, and then Bella found herself sinking into the pile of pillows.

She giggled and lay back, the sunshine filtering through the white linen into her eyes. He stood above her, seemingly ten feet tall, watching her spread her arms across the pillows. "You're looking a bit sparkly up there," she commented. She hiccupped.

"God, you're not tipsy, are you?" he asked, dismayed. "It was less than a glass!"

"No, Edward," she said firmly. "I'm in complete control of my…uh, faculties. Are you coming down here? It's lovely."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, nervous once again. It suddenly seemed a great mystery how to begin this momentous rite of passage. "Do you want a nap?" he asked abruptly. "Or maybe an espresso?" He gestured to Alice's expensive coffee machine.

She raised herself onto her elbows and peered at him curiously. She also wanted the right moment to present itself. "No thank you. Would you play the guitar for me?"

"Yes!" he said, leaping at the idea. He unpacked his guitar and settled next to her. He had compiled a playlist in his head for this very day, but none of those tunes and none of their lyrics seemed worthy now. He started a playing a random James Taylor song instead, as it was the first thing that came into his head.

Bella rolled to her side and propped herself on her elbow to watch. "Why do you think Alice gave us a metronome?" she asked, after a while.

"No idea, but I'm insulted if she is implying that I can't keep time." His long fingers moved deftly and naturally over the strings, a talent Bella was sure was his alone and separate from his gifts as a vampire. He slipped seamlessly from one song to another- yet another sappy one, she realized, when he began to quietly sing the words. He was quite a softie, her Edward.

"I know this one! _If __a __face __could __launch __a __thousand __ships __then __where __am __I __to __go_," she sang with him. She halted as quickly as she started. She contemplated Edward's cheekbones, his almost aquiline nose, his particular combination of masculine brow and jaw.

His face could launch battleships and oceanliners; hers might launch a dinghy. Or an air raft. _She_ should be singing to _him_ instead. She almost chuckled. This disparity didn't bother her as much as it had just six months ago. He loved her anyway.

"It's a sad song, isn't it?" she commented. "The world ending and the stars going out?"

"Not at all. It speaks of a love beyond earth's bounds. It's full of superlatives. It's how I feel..." he smiled "…about you."

She sighed contently and lay back again amongst the pillows. "No superlative is superlative enough for the way we feel."

"That was the truest thing you've ever said," he deadpanned and she laughed.

One would think Bella would now be overtaken by a delicious feeling of decadent lethargy. She was full of good food, touched by wine, and serenaded by (surely!) the most sensuous voice on the planet. However a certain excitement, both anxious and eager, kept her alert and made her aware of his every breath, his every movement of wrist and finger, the folds of his clothes and the disarray of his hair. She fancied herself a vampire for a moment, capable of great observational powers and limitless depths of emotion.

Edward grew more and more relaxed with each pass of his fingers on the strings. His confidence grew, along with his lust. His eyes were on her hair, spread out across linen pillows, on her parted lips, stained by raspberries, and on her legs, encased in pale, lace-rimmed leggings. (How did they end beneath her eyelet dress? Garter belt perhaps? Lingerie-anticipation was sweet torture, he mused.) Most of all, the intensity of her gaze made him fancy for a moment that he could see into her mind. She was ready, he decided; the time was right.

They both began to speak at once.

"Sorry – you first."

"No, no – ladies first."

"I love you, Edward," she said serenely. "So much. With all the superlative metaphors ever written or sung."

His heart seem to give a thump. "I love you too, Bella. May I kiss you?"

She emitted a little laugh, heavy with emotion. "You have to ask?"

He put the guitar aside and lay down beside her, mirroring her propped elbow position. Slowly, slowly he leaned in to kiss her. Their eyes closed and their mouths met, gently, with Herculean, aching restraint on his part and a luxuriant, meticulous attention on hers.

He pulled back a moment to put in his mouthguard.

"It's clear," she whispered in surprise. No more blue teeth.

"New and improved," he responded. "No lisping." Then he moved forward again, and they got lost in their kisses, with lips and teeth and tongue in a familiar, well-savored exchange.

"Please," he said, against her cheek. "May I touch you?"

She didn't laugh this time, but took his hand and placed it on her breast. He palmed the weight of her breast, eyes watchful for an escaping nipple. He leaned forward and ran his tongue along the top, where the eyelet bodice ended and flesh began. Bella's head fell back in a swoon.

Edward groaned, pulling her cashmere shrug off one shoulder and following it with wet kisses. She surrendered to the weight of his body and her knees fell open to his assertive thigh, though the dress still held him in check. Bella wondered if it was crass to offer her proposal _after_ fooling around. She wanted his hand down there. Like _now._

"Bella, I have something to ask you," he said softly, his hand now on her knee, clutching at the hem of her dress.

"Yes, _touch_ me," she answered, arching her back against him and tugging his shirt from his waistband.

"I will, I will – but…Bella."

She shrieked then, because he was lifting her up.

He set her on her feet, making sure she was steady on the pillows underfoot. Flushed and breathless, she gripped his forearms. "Why are we stopping? What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, Bella-sweet." He took her hands in his. "Everything is just right."

He went down on one knee and she gasped. What was he doing?

"Oh! wait…Edward…"

A shadow crossed his face so quickly she might have imagined it. "Don't be alarmed. It's not _that_ question."

Bella glanced wildly for her little purse.

"Bella."

She turned her attention back to him. "Yes?"

Edward put his hand over his dead heart. "My singer, my love, my life. Will you lie down with me? Will you come into my bed and let me have you, mind and heart, body and soul? I want to make love to you, fully and completely, as a man and woman of such true affection should. Will you...do you, consent?"

"Oh!" Bella took a step backward. She blinked down at him. "Are you sure? This is…unexpected."

He remained frozen, on one knee. "It is?"

"I thought you didn't want to make love until we were engaged… married even!"

He shook his head, his brows drawing together. "I harbor no such illusions, my darling, since the night of your birthday. I cannot possibly wait until you have a change of heart. It could be a century… or never. I'm a man, not a saint!"

Her silence felt like desolation. His voice broke: "I thought you were ready!"

"Oh Edward," she cried. "Oh, my dear, wonderful Edward." Tears brimmed in her eyes. "Stay right there."

He acquiesced but threw his hands up in frustration. He did not know how to respond to this. He had anticipated no other answer than _yes_.

Bella was fumbling with the clasp on her purse. Edward closed his eyes and swore inwardly at himself and then at Alice with equal vitriol.

Bella came back to join him; now both kneeled on the pillows. "Edward."

He met her eyes, unable to mask his bewilderment. "Bella."

She touched his face. "I didn't mean to cause you pain – please listen. I know you are a traditional man – it's something I love about you – so I won't ask you the question. But maybe I can ask you to ask me the question."

She lifted her hand and opened her palm. There sat a velvet pouch, identical to the one in which he kept his mother's ring.

He stared at it. "I don't understand."

She turned it over, and let the ring fall into her cupped hand. They both looked, eyes riveted to the ring, because she hadn't even seen it yet and because he couldn't quite comprehend how she came to have his mother's ring.

"I want to be yours, Edward, officially and legally, and…and spiritually. Symbolically and eternally. Mated and coupled and bedded and…wedded…and…" She gulped. His expression was nothing short of astonishment.

"You know, um, if you're still interested," she added.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish.

She shrank back. "So much for concise and beautiful," she whispered feebly. "I'm no Elizabeth Barrett Browning. I think you should do it." She extended her palm to him.

"I…I…" He fell back on his ass, landing awkwardly on the pile of pillows. "But you don't even like the _idea _of marriage," he spluttered.

"I've made a one-eighty turn on that," she insisted, her hand still extended.

"When? _How_? Oh God, you must have found all my unfinished letters." He put the heels of his hands on his forehead.

She scooched forward on her knees, between his long legs spread akimbo. "That's not what changed my mind Edward, I swear. I felt awful, it's true." She wrapped her fingers around his wrist.. "I was careless with my opinion; it was the poorly considered outlook of a child. Why hadn't you told me how important it was to you?"

"I don't know; I assumed you knew me well enough. _Bella,_" he begged. "Don't do this just for me."

She shook her head. "After reading your letters, I might have consented, okay yes, just for the sake of your happiness. But then Charlie said something, in the hotel lobby."

"What, five months ago?"

She nodded. "I've been waiting ever since for the right day. Today is the right day."

"You decided this five months ago," stated Edward, still in shock.

"Yes," she said, with a touch of apology. "Charlie isn't really a man of words," she continued, "but he blurted it all out at once while I cried."

"I thought you cried because… because you were disappointed in him."

"I thought so at first - then as he spoke I cried because I realised I was nothing more than a stubborn, modern fool. He said his love for Sue was so strong and so boundless, that he felt some urge to contain and protect it. He said he had to pour it into something with a recognizable shape – marriage-so that others would honor and respect it, too. Marriage would turn an overwhelming, intense thing into something tangible. Something he could comprehend."

"Yes," murmured Edward. "Yes. Exactly put."

"To offer Sue anything less was an insult, he'd said. Particularly as he knew he'd love her forever anyway. That, he said, was a given."

Bella sat back on her heels. "I suddenly saw clearly, Edward. It wasn't just tradition and propriety that drove you, it was the massive, glorious size of our love. Then your letters were all coloured differently to me after that."

She took the ring and velvet pouch and and pressed it to his palm, holding her hand to his.

"I insulted you and dishonoured you before you even got the question out. I'm sorry, so sorry. Will you forgive me?"

"Oh Bella," he said gently, "I had forgiven you well before Christmas—"

"Please," she said, tears spilling from her eyes. "Forgive me now?"

"I forgive you."

Once again, he was lifting her to her feet. He knelt down in front of her and offered up the ring. "Bella, will you marry me?" he cried.

"Yes, yes," she said tearfully, and he slipped the ring onto her finger. She collapsed on top of him then and they fell back in the pillows. She began to weep, both out of elation and the release of finally expressing what she had felt for months. He held her and rocked her while she soaked his shirt.

It was some time before Bella became quiet again. She turned her cheek and rested it on his chest. The sunshine still kept her warm, though the breeze had picked up a little. "Are you happy?" she whispered, playing with a button on his shirt.

"I am ecstatic," he replied, though he was perfectly still when he said this. She lifted her head to peer at him, unsure of his tone.

"I am unglued," he sighed, his eyes on the clouds. "Up-ended and struck dumb. It's the most wonderful feeling." He lifted his head and grinned at her. "We are engaged!" He found her hand and held it up to look at the ring in the sunlight.

"Yeah, we are. We are! _Oh_, and that other thing that you asked earlier?" Bella hesitated. She didn't want to sully his proposal, but she didn't want to ignore his previous declaration, either. "Um, the answer to that is _yes_ too."

He laughed and pulled her up along his body, so that her face was level with his. "I am not sure I can manage it now. I'm still reeling. All the liquid in my body has rushed to my dead heart, in celebration. I might be useless anywhere south of that."

Her eyes shone at him for a moment, and a knowing look – a look he might attribute to a much more mature, much more experienced woman – came into her expression. She pushed herself off his chest and rose to her feet.

Locking her gaze with his, she reached under her shrug-cardigan and felt for the side zipper to her dress. Unhurriedly, she pulled the zipper down until the eyelet dress fell to her feet. She stepped out of it.

Edward rose to his elbows to watch. His eyes left hers; he couldn't help himself.

Next Bella unhooked her strapless bra and discarded it with the dress. Her heart beat stepped up a notch. Her silky white underwear, like the sheer purple pair first displayed in their meadow year ago, had two simple ties at the hips. She pulled on one, then the other.

Then she stood before him in the sunshine, with only a tiny cardigan, a blue scarf and lace edged leggings on.

"Oh Bella, I desire you," he whispered, shaking his head in wonder. "Come to me." He held out his hand.

8&8&8&


	29. Chapter 29: The Tempo of Love

**Ahem. Apologies for the fade to black last chapter. I was going to do a Bill Condon-style reminiscence after-the-fact (in the desire to get on with the story) but I've been persuaded to um, juggle a bit to avoid anticlimactic sex. I've now relocated the entire Freja-at-the-library scene to the next chapter. So, old readers, when you see it in chapter 30, feel free to skip to the next section break. New readers, carry on!**

**Ff dot net keeps messing with my italics! _Running__them__all__together!_ What gives? Apologies for errors! In the interest of time, this chapter is unbeta'd. Feel free to point out typos.**

**Chapter 29: The Tempo of Love**

"Oh Bella. I desire you." He held out his hand. "Come to me."

He pulled her down into his lap, sideways. Taking her wrist and then sliding down to her fingers, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it chastely, as if he were courting an Edwardian maid in her mother's parlor. His erection, full-on and straining against his trousers, told a different story, as did his eyes. Blazing and black as midnight.

Bella wore no maiden's frock; indeed she wore almost nothing at all, except the cashmere shrug, silk scarf and thigh high white lace leggings that covered her pulse points.

She pulled on the top button of his shirt. She wanted him naked too.

"My darling," he whispered, stretching his palm open and placing it reverently on her waist. "Your skin, oh! Your bare skin…" His hand wandered, up over her breast and down to her abdomen, around to the small of her back. She realized it had been some time since he had touched her without her Bjurssen on.

"I know this beautiful body." He chuckled throatily, his fingertips now skimming her knee. "Its dips and crescendos. I know its sighs and its cries. I can coax it to hum, to sing." He raised his gaze from her naked body to meet her eyes. Bella gave up on his shirt buttons.

"Part your knees, my Bellla-sweet, my dearest intended, and let me strum your desire."

Bella complied. His fingers moved, then moved in, performing his seduction in a tortuous, exquisitely slow rhythm. She was strung tight; she was jelly in his arms. She wanted to get straight to the ultimate act; she could lay open at the pleasure of his fingers indefinitely. Her mind was sharp and fogged all at the same time. He whispered raggedly at her ear, marrying words of love with erotic, almost obscene commentary. No need to quote Shakespeare, Neruda or Browning; no exalted poetry could possibly surpass Edward's pledge of love at this moment

He kissed her through her orgasm, holding her fast in his arms and in the curl of his body so that she couldn't even buck. All the reverberations rippled up and out through her fingertips and toes and her brain. She cried out into his mouth, then against his hard cheek, finally burying her face in his shirt collar.

Bella forgot for a moment about their ultimate intention, until he spoke again: "Help me."

She opened her eyes and saw the fire in his. He was unbuttoning his trousers one-handed. She moved off his lap and fumbled with the remaining buttons on his shirt with hands still clumsy from her climax. Frustrated, she ripped the last two, sending the buttons flying. Edward emitted a short half-growl, something she now recognized as Edward's laugh when he was aroused.

With both hands now free, he shed his pants and boxers at vampire speed. She couldn't help but smile at him. Fully naked in the sunlight, he sparkled - from his pale broad shoulder to the tip of his erect penis. From his perfect gluteal muscles to his ten toes. There was no time to comment; suddenly she was on her back in the pillows and his face was above hers. Her knees were already propped; he must have done that.

"I'm ready-I'm ready-are you ready?" he asked so fast that she barely understood him. His face was a picture of ache and joy, of feral possession and singular devotion. He held himself perfectly still, waiting for her answer. She had half-expected his conditions and warnings before he entered her. This unapologetic lust thrilled her and she felt her own desire rise again like a fever.

"Yes, I'm ready for you," she cried. She reached down to guide him in, but he was already on the job. A moment to find the right angle. The tip and pause; a little further and pause. He was gasping with restraint. His eyes were locked on hers.

"It's good," she reassured him, breathing again, and then he buried himself fully in her before she had even finished the word.

"Oh _God_," he groaned, closing his eyes.

"Oh GOD," she repeated, raising hers to the heavens.

He snaked one arm around her back, lifting her, holding her flush against him. He began to move.

"Oh. God," she said again. This _was_ different from all their earlier explorations. No finger poke or tongue massage could bring him so physically close. She retracted all her previous arguments with Edward to the contrary.

All the feeling was around the entrance, though there was a stretching that she could somehow sense internally. No, wait, there was more. His testicles hitting her _there_, below - nothing to do with the clitoris really. "Yes that – there - oh-Edward," she babbled. She gripped his shoulders.

"Bella," he rasped, picking up speed. "This is…it's…" His words died on his lips as he moved faster and faster. She was used to Edward moving fast but it usually took him somewhere. This time all his power was directed into her, _at_ her, to the most sensitive spots of her body. She felt a base, profound swirl of pleasure building up – and a simultaneous distraction…

"Tight," she gasped.

"Yes, so tight," he uttered rhythmically in her ear. "Now I understand what that means!"

"Edward, _tight_."

"So tight!"

"Edward, look at me!" she cried, placing her palms on his cheeks. "Open your eyes."

Miraculously, he heard her. He stopped moving and opened his eyes.

"You're holding me too tight," she squeaked.

"OH fuck, I am?"

"Wait!" she shrieked, but he had withdrawn, penis and all.

He was on his feet, breathing hard, his palms extended toward her. "Are you okay? Oh God, I'm sorry. Fuck, we've moved almost four feet!"

Bella looked down. They were on the rough grass. He had fucked her right off the blanket and pillows, like some out of control wind up toy. She felt the urge to laugh. She tried to bring herself to her elbows. She was reeling with sensation still; she would even say that she _throbbed._ "I'm fine," she said, trying not to gasp. "Come back."

"I held you too tight," he retorted, anguish crossing his features. "And clearly went too fast." He gestured angrily at the grass. "You're probably bruised all over."

"Well, let's figure it out," she said steadily. "The way we've worked everything out."

"No, I think we should stop." He looked away, torn. He folded his arms over his chest.

"Your erection disagrees."

He glanced down at his still raging hard-on and then rolled his eyes at her.

Bella rose unsteadily to her feet, with as much dignity as possible for a shy, naked person. She found the metronome and set it on the blanket, then freed the pendulum from its stay. She moved the small weight down toward the bottom – about two-thirds down – and let it do its thing. Tick Tock Tick tock it sounded, in a rapid beat.

"There. That's your tempo," she said.

He scoffed and narrowed his eyes at the metronome. She could see the wheels turning in his head. She had him.

Bella rearranged the pillows, fluffing one or two, taking her time, so he got a good eyeful of breast and ass.

His arms remained folded, his cock still eager.

Then she lay back languidly, posing a little, but with knees together, as she wasn't really as confident as she was pretending to be. She raised what she hoped were seductive eyes in his direction.

"Oh Bella," he laughed, with a touch of his feral rumble in his chest. "You are wonderful. So beautiful. So sexy. So brilliantly _reasonable_."

"Are you coming?" she asked.

He smirked. "I would like to."

"Then get down here, my fiancé' and play me again."

He beamed.

Instead of holding her torso close, he rested his weight on his hands. "You are still wet," he moaned, as he pushed himself into her. He moved, at half-time to the metronome. This time he watched her face, and she watched his. "Remain eye contact," Bella quoted Kate.

"And speak to one another," he added. "Is it all right?" he whispered.

"Yes, Edward, it's beautiful," she said, her voice rough with desire. "Do you like it?"

"It is heaven on earth. _Piú_ _mosso_," he murmured. "Please."

Bella didn't know if he was asking or telling, and she didn't know what _piú_ _mosso_meant, but she nodded anyway and he sped up, now meeting the metronome.

Edward began to kiss her as he moved, their tongues tangling deep, as if they could match the depth of his penetration in their mouths too. Since he couldn't hold her, she held onto him, with hands around his neck and feet hooked behind his waist. He kept to the metronome; they stayed in one place. Speech became groans and cries, though she thought he said '_Strigendo_!' at some point. She wasn't entirely sure because she came then, hard and quite unexpectedly.

'_Stretto_ now, my Bella _yes,_' he roared and he reached and smashed the metronome with his fist. He jerked erratically and cried out. His final thrusts were emphatic, deep, slow. He snaked an arm around her waist again and held her close, finally coming to a stop. They lay there, glued together by love and mutual wonder and Bella's sweat. It took some time for their noisy breathing to subside.

He raised his head to look at her.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi." He swallowed, searching her face with his eyes. "All right?"

She nodded and gave a little half-laugh, half-sob. "Transcendent." She kissed him and tear of emotion escaped down her temple. He brushed it away and kissed the wet trail. He pulled out, a bit awkwardly, but then gathered her up in his arms, cushioned by Alice's pillows. Venom ejaculate, fortunately, makes only a short-term mess; whatever was left on the surface their bodies simply evaporated in the breeze.

They gazed in awe of one another, much as they had done their first visit to Olympic Peninsula meadow, on a spring afternoon her junior year.

"So what do you think, after one hundred years of virginity?" she asked.

"I think…EUREKA," he said, completely serious.

She laughed. "I love you, Edward."

8&8&8&8

Some music terms:

Più mosso — more movement or faster

Stringendo — pressing on faster (literally "tightening")

Stretto - in faster tempo, often near the conclusion of a section.


	30. Chapter 30: Incoming

Author's note: Hey if this looks familiar, scroll down to the NEW part of the chapter, about ¼ down, after Edward argues with Freja. Don't skim too fast, or you'll miss the sexy times.

**Chapter****30**: **Incoming**

The King of the World stood in line at Dartmouth Undergraduate Library. He surveyed the thoughts around him, dipping into minds intent on the acquisition of knowledge. It was a pleasure. The occasional moment of epiphany would distinguish itself every now and then, when a chemistry solution was discovered or a particular insight into nebulous poetry became clear.

_GUESS __WHAT!_ he wanted to shout into the atrium himself, with his fists raised in triumph. _SEX __IS __GRAND! _Just this morning he had left Bella (his Queen-to-be) all floppy-limbed and giddy, moaning that she _must_ get out of bed and study - once she had recovered, which would be never.

"Hey."

"Oh hey, Freja." Edward turned around and beamed at Bella's friend.

"Wow, tone down the wattage, Edward, people are studying." She snorted, just loudly enough to attract the glare of the librarian.

Edward couldn't help but grin at anyone and everyone who spoke to him. Even his elderly Physical Therapy case study had warmed to him at last and given him a candid interview. He was going to get that A after all.

The librarian put her finger over her lips, to which Freja rolled her eyes. Still smiling, Edward offered an _us-against-them_ shrug to Freja, and turned back to face the line.

_Yeah, __smirk __away, _Freja thought. _Talked __her __in to __it, __didn__'__t __ya? __No __sex __with out __a __ring, __baby, __that__'__s __the __way __Edward __rocks __and __rolls. __Isn__'__t __that __the __girl__'__s __line? __In, __like, __1955?_

Ah, sometimes Edward wished Bella had found a less prickly (and more sober) friend.

_It's like he's the president of the Neo-Family, Conditional-Abstinence Time Warp Association. With a bit of Kate-Tits-and-Legs as his secretary at arms._

What? Christ, she had no faith in him at all! Edward stepped forward to the desk. "May I renew these another week please?" he said, at an acceptable library volume. The librarian gaped at his face a beat too long, though his smile had faded a bit under the diatribe going on in Freja's head behind him.

_It's not like you obligate Bella, noooo. Paying for her car insurance, letting her live in that big-ass house rent free…and look!. Those are Bella's books he's renewing. What a guy! So thoughtful! So controlling! Always making dinner and putting air in her tires and shit._

Edward sighed.

_I __wish __some one __gorgeous __would __make _me _dinner __and __renew _my _library __books. __And __beg __me __to __marry __him. __Then __sex __me __up __so __I __glowed __like __Bella. __God, __I __need __a __drink. __Where __the __hell __is __my __supplier __today?_

He turned around. "Freja, would you like to join us for dinner tonight? I'm cooking."

_Oh __my __God, __how __nice? _"Um, wow, Edward that is so…so _nice_ of you? I'm going to have to say no. I've got to study. And run a few errands."

"You and Bella could study for your shared classes."

The librarian was watching this exchange with rapt attention. _I__'__ll__go.__Ask__me_. She stamped Freja's books without taking her eyes off Edward.

"Yeah, but, but…" Freja directed her attention to her purple Converse, anywhere other than that dazzling smile. "We've got a study session planned on Thursday anyway." _Besides __I __need __a __drink __and __you__'__ll __notice __even __if __Bella __doesn__'__t. _"I'm good. Thanks anyway?" She shoved her books into her satchel.

"That must weigh a ton," he commented, lifting it experimentally.

Then he picked it up – _Oh __my __God_ - and carried it for her! _Such __a __gentleman! __So __polite! __So __unnatural!_

Edward was struggling not to laugh. Freja would warm to him eventually; he was enjoying the challenge. She was Bella's now-and-future friend. He had to try. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

"Where are you heading next?" he asked breezily, as he held the door open for her at the main entrance. She hurried through, looking back at him with a pained smile.

Edward checked his phone. _Dn__'__t __give __urself __away.__ –__Alice._ Hm.

"Um, my car? We'll put those in my car!" Freja couldn't bear such helpful behaviour much longer. "It's close by!" She crossed the quad and Edward followed.

She pointed and he stopped in his tracks. There, crammed into a not-quite-legal parking space, was Freja's little Volkswagen.

"WHAT the fuck."

Freja stared at him. She didn't think Edward swore, ever. "What, what, what is it?" she asked, her heart rate increasing irrationally.

"Where the hell is the Volvo?" he growled.

"I…I sold it?" she said. "It was brand new. Hey, it will pay for my tuition next year. I love my VW."

"You cannot drive this," he declared, moving his palm horizontally, like he was Obi Wan Kenobi or something.

Freja's persnickity persona reared again. "What, are you a Volvo marketing executive? Just because you and Bella look like WASP-y suburban moms, doesn't mean I have to!"

"You need to get it back," he said, swivelling his head to look at her. "The Volvo."

"_What?_ Oh my God, Edward. Listen to yourself, telling me what do to! I'm not your control-ee, you know- that's Bella. I don't understand why you even care!"

He stepped up and loomed over her. His voice was low and held a sound that made Freja's stomach drop. "Because you drive when you are shit-faced drunk. Because you will harm yourself and others – Bella, for example - and possibly go to jail for manslaughter. Because Bella cares about you and I care about Bella."

He stepped back. Freja's head spun, like it did when she was drunk and she lay on the floor of the bathroom.

"Don't. Push. Me. Freja." He turned on his heel, took two steps, and turned to face her again. "You won't find your supplier today, by the way. He was arrested for selling alcohol and dubious-quality marijuana to minors. He was an amateur and a dick. I turned him in."

He dropped her satchel to the ground and walked away.

_Oh my God. Oh. My. God. I need a drink._

8&8&8&

"ALICE." Edward barked into his phone. "The VW is back."

"Yes, but the vision hasn't recurred," she returned, without greeting him either. "Whatever had triggered the accident has gone. It must have been some other external factor, unrelated to the Volkswagen versus Volvo issue."

"What is it, then, that toggles it on and off?" he said desperately.

"I don't know." Alice hesitated. "You are being careless, brother."

He was striding so quickly as he spoke that students were turning their heads to watch. He slowed down.

"Better," she said. "Ah, uh…your comments to Freja are setting other events in motion," she murmured distractedly. "But they are too wild to pin down. Tanya…" Alice's voice drifted off.

"Tanya what…?" Edward waited, holding his breath while her vision worked itself out. What could Tanya possibly have to do with Freja? "_Well_?"

"I…I can't tell," continued Alice. "Too many outcomes…or too many holes."

"God damnit," he muttered. "Short-term or long-term outcomes? Try again."

"Patience, sir," came Jasper's voice in the background. "Respect the seer."

"Sorry, sorry," said Edward, running his hand through his hair. "Would-you-try-again PLEASE."

"Pftt," Alice complained. "Yesterday you were all gratitude and compliments."

"The gal sets up a nice tent," Jasper commented mildly. He was typing on the computer; Edward could hear it through the receiver.

"True enough," agreed Edward, clearing his throat. "I am just as grateful today as yesterday." He had sent Alice flowers for her facilitation of Saturday's extraordinary day in the meadow, all the while hopeful that she had been somewhat discreet with her foreknowledge. Jasper, Edward realized with some embarrassment, had probably known everything before Edward had.

All the Cullens (as well as Renee and a very _very_ surly Charlie) knew about the engagement by now, but thank God Emmett hadn't called about the other milestone, guffawing and shouting about V-cards.

Edward exhaled. "Speculation, Alice?" he enquired, his tone a little less demanding. "Your best guess, even."

"No. Uninformed speculation only compounds the possibilities. You know how it works, Edward. The act of telling you the future _changes_ the future. Worse, long-term outcomes vary exponentially with each new input. Even Jasper could end up with Tanya."

"Awesome," said Jasper in the background, in an Emmett-impersonation.

"But so could Barack Obama," she added, speaking to Jasper. "Or Justin Bieber."

"Who are Barack Obama and Justin Bieber?" asked Jasper with mock outrage.

"Future President of the U.S. and future Governor of California."

"M'kay," drawled Jasper. The tap-tap of the keyboard resumed.

"_Why_ have you mentioned Tanya again?" asked Edward in exasperation.

"No reason. Just an example."

"Jesus Christ, Alice."

"Not Jesus. Tanya."

"Oh haha HA. She'll visit soon," prompted Edward, "and run into Freja?"

"Tanya's in Maine now, in fact. Freja's presence is a possibility. Might be in the library – or on some enormous green patch of lawn, if it's overcast."

.

"The Quad. I'm standing here this very moment." He scanned the sloping lawn, where students gathered, smoked, studied. Could her mate handle such a crush of humanity? "So…Tanya comes to say hello, and I dispatch her and her mate with a few derisive comments – and that's it. Bella isn't even there, in any of your visions. Right?"

"It's wide open," said Alice quietly. "Strange, when it is almost imminent."

"How imminent?"

"Maybe later this week."

"Great. What a shitty distraction."

"You guys have finals."

"Yeah, and Bella is studying like a monk in seclusion. She wants her As." He paced on the shaded sidewalk, watched furtively by a female student or two. He pushed their admiration from his mind. "A visit from Tanya will throw Bella off her stride. Badly."

"So, don't even tell Bella, until they're gone again."

"Hm." He was supposed to be honest with Bella: to share information, to treat her like a partner and a future spouse. Not a fragile child.

Edward came to a stop, gripping his phone. "Alice," he said with sudden horror. "Tell me that in all possible futures, Bella and I are together."

"If she remains human," she said gently, "it is a limited future—"

"Yes, yes I know," he said, waving his hand. "For me as well, then." He needn't expand on that subject; he knew Alice's opinion did not match his own.

Edward's voice dropped to its lowest audible volume. "Tell me that there are no futures where we exist apart. Tell me Tanya never succeeds, that I never succumb to her gift. Tell me no man – nor wolf – ever supplants me in Bella's affections."

"You know the answer to that." Alice sighed into her phone. "Bella is your mate, and so your chances are excellent. Nothing on this earth, however, is ever one hundred percent certain."

That wasn't good enough for Edward.

8&8&8&

"Stay calm. Stay calm," Bella muttered to herself. "You have twenty four hours still. Use your brain."

Bella sat cross-legged in the 'Swan Study Center', sorting her colour coordinated cards. Poets in rows, themes in columns. She mouthed quotes, committing them to memory. Historical events and trends were on mini Post It notes, with the year in black Sharpie.

Oh, to have Edward's eidetic memory, to have that additional use of her lackadaisical

human neurons! She wished she were a vampire for a moment - then immediately retracted that idea. This morning she felt the most wonderful human soreness in her limbs and in her intimate areas. Tender, sensitive, _aching_. In the best way possible. The pool's solar-supplemented jacuzzi sounded heavenly about now. Such an indulgence would have to wait until after finals.

A vampire would physically recover from sex within ten minutes, she guessed, (if Edward's penis was anything to go by) whereas her body seemed to hum with satisfaction for _hours_ afterwards. She stretched and giggled. "Edward, oh Edward," she moaned aloud, wondering exactly what she sounded like when he was giving it to her.

"Bella-oh-Bella," he replied in the hallway, making her jump. There was a whoosh of air in the room and he was lying down in the pillows, his arm around her waist and his hard nose against her outer thigh.

"You said you would make noise when you come in!" She tried to pinch his arm unsuccessfully; it was like trying to squeeze a stone. "You scared me. And you messed up my poetry grid," she said, putting the cards back in place.

"I _did_ make noise. Next time I'll moan 'Bella OH Bella' as I come up the front walk." He muttered this against her leg. His eyes were closed, his brow a little furrowed.

She put her hand on his forehead, touching the little pucker between his eyebrows. "You could ring the doorbell before you came in."

"Of my own house? Huh. You wouldn't hear it if you were in the bedroom. And you have your ear buds in 43% of the time."

"_Oh_," she said. "True. Hey, Should we…install a second chime in the bedroom?" She smirked and moved her fingers into his hair. "Should we fly Emmett out?"

"Oh, that's funny," he said. "Everyone's a comedienne today." He tightened his hold around her waist, scowling.

She stroked his hair, peering down at him. "You've lost your smile. Everything okay?"

"I guess so. I argued with Freja at the library this morning." He rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head. "I've thoroughly pissed her off."

"What about?"

"She has reacquired the Volkswagen."

"_Oh_. You're kidding."

"But Alice foresees no accident," he added quickly.

"That's because I _choose_ not to get in," she reminded him, rolling onto her knees to give him a quick kiss on the forehead. Bella straightened her poetry grid. "Gerald Manley Hopkins…" she muttered, trying to decide where to place a particular card.

He watched her, in this appealing position, on her hands and knees with her tank top gaping a bit, her little sweater falling off her shoulder. She was bra-less today. Something feral stirred in him. "Maybe we should change you."

"WHAT?" She fell back onto her bottom. "Is this Edward A. Masen Cullen before me, President of the Human-Life-is-So-Cool Party? Or an imposter?"

"It's me." He took her hand in his, watching their intertwined fingers as if they held miracles. "Your mate."

"Edward. I WON'T GET IN FREJA'S CAR."

He played with her fingers, and his mother's ring, thoughts flitting across his face. "Promise me."

"I promise. Anyway, we said after college, right?"

"We did, tentatively." He tried to smile. He should be pleased at her more considered approach to vampirism. She was no longer bringing up 'the change' in regular conversation, trying to get him to move the timetable forward. If she discussed it now, the change was described as a possibility, rather than a certainty. Somewhere in the school term, she perhaps had decided she was enjoying her human life. Academic pressure added a certain tension, as did negotiating her friendships and maybe, urgh, dealing with Edward's untidy habits. He must try to pick up after himself a little better.

He thought of Tanya, the only grey cloud in their bright, idyllic existence. Tanya _doesn__'__t __harm __humans_, he told himself. _And __she __has __a __mate._ Paranoia was not a reason to change Bella.

Right?

"I am craving…" He ran his fingers up her arm, under the sleeve of her cardigan.

"My body?" she said happily.

"Well, yes, that…"

"I'm _studying_," she said with mock disapproval, as if _he_ had made the suggestion. She held the card in front of her face, but her eyes were on his fingers.

"I crave guarantees," he answered quietly. "Mutual possession. Safety. Surety." He tugged at her gently, pulling her toward him. "A hundred years, a thousand. You and I."

Bella looked over at his lost, melancholy expression. His eyes were in their intense vampiric mode: observing, appreciating, wanting. _Drinking __her __in_, she might say. He needed her.

"Sorry. You're studying," he said when she didn't answer, with a concerted effort to be selfless. His eyes flicked involuntarily to her wrist, now exposed.

Bella removed his wandering fingers, picked up an index card and laid it on his chest, at the neckline of his shirt. Then she threw one knee over his waist, straddling him. His nostrils flared.

"There," she said, soothingly, brushing his jaw with her fingers. "I can read from here."

'But that's just one card," he said, still trying to be helpful. He was smiling a little, at last.

She leaned to her right, scooped up all the cards and slid them down the front of his shirt. "I'll pull them out at random and recite what I know."

"And the dates," he said. Without taking his eyes from hers, he felt for the post-it notes and began sticking them to his forehead, to his cheeks.

Bella laughed. She leaned forward and removed one, kissing the place on his cheek where it had sat.

"1785 to 1820," she said. "Gothic period."

He began to push her skirt up over her thighs. He loved it that she wore skirts almost all the time now. Jeans just didn't have the ready _access_. "I want you," he said, so quietly that she didn't hear him. _Your __mind, __your __body, __your __soul, __your __existence. __No __vampire, __no __succubus, __no __human __will __separate __us. __I __swear __it!_

"Romanticism," she was saying, "was a kind of revolt against aristocratic social and political norms of the Age of Enlightenment and a reaction against the scientific rationalization of…of…oh…oh."

"It's only my thumbs," he said in his low, chest-rumbling growl. His thumbs moved slowly back and forth along the line where her sheer leggings ended and the bare skin of her thigh began. "Continue, please."

She steeled herself – all the while anticipating exactly where this was going – and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt to pull out a card. "Percy Bysshe Shelley. Easy."

She could name the poet's most celebrated poems, discuss his styles and influences. She was coherent until she got to Lord Byron, Edward's fourth button down. Her tank top was pushed above her breasts by then; he had licked his thumbs and was teasing her nipples into peaks. She struggled to speak.

"She walks…she walks…

"_She __walks __in __beauty, __like __the __night_, _of __cloudless __climes __and __starry __skies;__" _prompted Edward, his voice rough.

"_And __all __that's __best __of __dark __and __bright_ …_meet __in __his __aspect __and __his __eyes,__" _Bella misquoted on purpose, watching Edward's eyes transform to molasses back. "Oh Edward, to the bedroom, please."

They were on the bed in an instant.

It would have to be a quickie; his need was great and his control poor. She sensed this and strapped him in with the seatbelt. He didn't protest. She climbed atop him and pushed her underwear aside, lowering herself without preamble. Though it was their first time in this position, she rode him instinctively and rapidly to his climax, with her skirt still on and his jeans around his ankles, with a post-it note ("1890s") still stuck to his sweatless forehead. "Bella!" he croaked, in gratitude or ecstasy or apology - perhaps a little of each. Bella liked this position. She could see his face the whole time.

Bella pitched forward and rested her head on his chest. She gave a single, breathless chortle. Sex was such a bizarre, frenetic activity. How on earth did God think that one up?

"Back to the books," she said briskly, before his breathing had even returned to normal. "You've got to study too!"

"_Wait_ - I've given you nothing…" he protested, holding her still before she could climb off of him. "…yet," he added. "I only want to study you."

"Your satisfaction is a gift, too," she replied with a touch of schmaltz, raising her head to look at him. She thought for a moment. "Give me lattes. Give me prompts and quizzes and then challenge my answers. Keep me on edge," she suggested. "Keep me focused. Disciplined. And I'll do the same for you. Until we're finished with exams." She shifted – slowly, as he was really big and she was really sore - separating their bodies and pulling her tank top down again.

"Focused and disciplined," he repeated, wishing he knew when and where Tanya would appear. The uncertainty was keeping him 'on edge', but not the way Bella wanted.

"And then on Saturday?" he said, wrapping Bella in his arms again. "May I spend the day pleasuring you?" Finals would be over, Tanya and Sven (hopefully) come and gone. It would be a relief.

"_Pleasuring_ me?" Bella glanced down at his naked, spent body and blushed. "Yeah. A girl can't say no to that."

8&8&8&8

The letter was postmarked 'Forks'. The date of mailing was five days ago.

_Dear Bella,_

_I am writing this because I can't say it aloud to you I'm so angry, and anyway it takes too long to text and I'll be on the road after this I need to get it out, to clear my head._

_I know now. I know that you've known all along who my Layla is. I've got proof. _

_I'd like to blame it on Edward, his influence on you. Maybe you thought you were protecting me. Whatever. You've guys have found each other and you can't even let me have my own piece of happiness? I don't get you anymore. Layla WANTS to see me, and I finished f*$%ing high school now, so your worries were all for nothing. I may or may not see you again soon - _

_Jacob_

Bella texted him in return immediately, while standing by the mail box.

_Just got your letter. Oh Jake, I swear I don't know who it is. We suspected someone for a while, but it seemed too unlikely. What 'proof'? Be careful on the road. I DO care about your happiness. Love, Bella_

She waited a minute, to see if he would return the text. He didn't. She trudged back up the walk and texted Freja: 'Still coming here to study this afternoon?'.

Mired in thought, Bella entered the living room and glanced at her papers spread out across the floor. Her last final was tomorrow and her notebooks nagged at her, open and waiting. She'd had little sleep, her brain was still reeling from the poetry exam, and her body still ached from all the lovemaking earlier in the week.

Just thirty minutes in the jacuzzi. Some music, an aspirin. She would feel refreshed.

Edward was with his PT study group at the library, though she wondered how much he was actually studying. He had been on the phone with Alice when Bella woke up, hurtling through hushed, vampire-speed exchanges that Bella suspected had nothing to do with Physical Therapy. 'Volatile Asian market last night," he had explained while Bella ate her cereal.

Then he'd held her, unmoving, for five solid minutes, before departing this morning. "I can't stand still this long," she'd whispered eventually and he'd replied 'You are _such_ a human." His departing kiss contained… _something_. Yearning and tension?

He wanted sex again, Bella surmised. Alice had warned her that once he'd had it, he'd want it all the time. _Vampires._ Saturday was going to be a _volcanic__explosion_. Yes, the Jacuzzi and an aspirin. Now.

Within three minutes Bella was up to her chin in the soothing water. Bliss. Her iPod sat on the coping, safely dry, and the earbuds surrounded her with the sounds of Sigur Ros. She closed her eyes and let her worries about Jacob, Freja, and The Modern Novel move to the back of her mind.

She didn't hear the chime of her phone in the bedroom, twice. She didn't hear the knock on the back door, nor the doorbell of the front door, as her mind was gently ensconced in meadows and pillows and poetry, long fingers and a velvet voice singing 'If'.

8&8&8&

Edward's phone vibrated on the library table.

_INCOMNG _said Alice's text. _IN __FIVE._

8&8&8&8&

So the action begins at last. Took forever, I know.

Thanks to Camilla for telling me how to fix the bloody italics and for being my a great supporter and harshest critic too!

Thanks to all of you who continue to read and review – you're lovely. And thanks for pointing out my typos – I still need to fix the ones from the last chapter!


	31. Chapter 31: Blond visit number three

Let me know if you see errors. I feel sure they are there. Thanks, dear readers!

**Chapter 31: Blond Visit Number Three**

_INCOMING. _texted Alice. _TWO MINUTES. _Edward threw out the net of his gift, filtering for Tanya's voice among the thousands on campus.

"So, what about sports injuries…" his classmate Tom was saying, but Edward was only half-listening.

_Acknowledged_ texted Edward_. Where is the mate?_ _Where is Bella?_

"Edward?" Tom blinked at Edward's amazing flying thumbs. "You wanna lead this one?"

"Forgive me," replied Edward in a low tone, without looking up. "I am wholly distracted by my phone." His classmates wondered, as they often did, at his formal speaking habits. "But I'll offer avulsion fracture and apophysitis. What's the presentation and treatment?"

Harris and Laura rattled off the information, back and forth like a sparring match, faltering when Edward's phone vibrated again.

_Sven not wth Tanya. She left him in the woods. B in the Jacuzzi._

_Which woods?_ he typed back.

_Don't know. No discernabl L&marks._

_Does he stay there?_

_U KNO how it works. _

Yes, he did. Unfortunately, Alice couldn't precisely see anyone she didn't know (Sven), unless they were accompanied by the person she did know (Tanya).

"Shit," muttered Edward and his companions' eyes turned to him again.

"_HOLY_ shit," whispered Tom, hunching his shoulders forward. "Will you take a look at _her."_

Edward didn't need to look up to guess what Tom was referring to. Men had been gawping at her since she entered the library; he had felt the ripple in their minds on the first floor. Women too.

"Check it out, she's coming this way. Oh, oh. Thank you, God." Tom's voice warbled.

Edward texted Bella at lightning speed. _Vampire in the neighbourhood; don't go in the woods; text me back that you're okay. _

"Those legs, those tits," moaned Harris, prompting noises of indignation from the women in their study group. "Breasts?" he corrected himself, irredeemably.

Edwardmanaged one last text to Alice. _Keep an eye on Bella. Keep me posted. _Then he stood abruptly and turned to watch Tanya's approach.

Tanya must have perfected this walk over the centuries; he had never noticed how blatant it was. It was as if she left a smear of honey (or worse) behind her, filling the room with venom-tinged pheromones and leaving a devastation of aroused males in her wake. She had never looked so unattractive to him.

"_Oh my fuck_, what are you doing - sit down, Edward - do you KNOW her?"

He didn't respond. He locked eyes with Tanya and bore aggressively into her thoughts. In return he got…static. The Cyrillic alphabet. One hundred and eight most popular positions from the Kama Sutra.

It seemed to take ten minutes for her to cross the last carpeted yards between them, until she came to a stop an arm's length away. He didn't recoil, didn't _budge_.

"That's…that's quite a dress you're wearing," said Harris helplessly.

"He's engaged, actually," blurted Tom, jerking his thumb at Edward. "But I'm not."

She put her hands demurely behind her back, and bestowed a soft smile upon Edward's classmates. "Shall we go somewhere private, Edward?"

The silence at the table was deafening.

Edward's voice was ice. "I have an exam tomorrow."

She moved her eyes from Harris to Tom, then lastly to Edward. "Poor baby," she said breathily, though he could detect the finest hint of irony there. Still, he got nothing from her mind.

She turned, and moved (the walk in full command) toward an unclaimed study room, one with glass walls, four padded chairs, a table. Her hands clasped just above her ass, Tanya beckoned him with a single curling finger.

Ignoring the utter riot of sexual thoughts that surrounded him, he followed, leaving his books and backpack at the table but gripping his phone in his hand.

It vibrated in his grasp and he glanced at it.

_I cant see what shes doing_

_8&8&_

In the hot, swirling water, Bella had reached the threshold where relaxation was edging into boredom. She just wasn't that good at thinking of nothing; she had never been one to sunbathe with Renee or to lie around indulgently in bed, unless she had a book in her hand at the same time.

When Bella's favorite playlist began to repeat itself, she opened her eyes.

Oh! Through the steam of the jacuzzi, she could see Edward standing in their bedroom, his back to her. She clucked her tongue and smiled. Why wasn't he with his study group? _Because I must have you NOW, Bella-sweet, _she half-hoped he would say. She saw him stride into the bathroom, then come out again. He seemed agitated.

Bella rose out of the water, wrapped her towel around her torso and opened a French door. Golden eyes met her brown ones at the threshold and she gave a little gasp of surprise.

It wasn't Edward at all. It was some other man. No – some other _vampire_, who almost seemed to be wearing Edward's body. The long and lanky legs. The perfectly turned shoulders, the angular planes of his chest. Even the way the man's neck met his head, the way his jaw squared at the corners, reminded her of Edward.

"_Herrenguud_. Human," he said, taking an open-mouthed breath. For a second they stared at one another in surprise– then he narrowed his eyes. "I did not see you! Hear you! How is this?"

"Who…_what_? What are you doing in my house?" she cried. "Oh. Sven. You must be Sven."

Who else could it be? The golden eyes, the northern European accent…but above all, he was an Edward look-alike. Lighter hair, older in appearance – more thirty-seven than seventeen, but still Edward-shaped. Since Tanya could not have the real thing, she had found herself a substitute. A poor one, thought Bella, staring at the vampire's cold, darting eyes. She found a grim pride in this observation. She clutched at the towel around her body and took an involuntary step backwards, before being yanked inside. He shut the door behind her.

"So, you are expecting me," he replied with self-satisfaction. "I track this house easy, no problem – a _merkelig_ smell, very strong in the area, plus vampire."

"Uh, _great_," she said, her voice unnaturally high. "Welcome. But you should knock next time."

"I did. But you can't hear beyond this room, ja?" he said. "Very interesting." He raised an eyebrow at the bed in the center of the room.

"You can let go of me now," she squeaked. His grip was like iron. A month ago, she had entertained this surreal idea, that she would be _hosting _(as if she were like Esme!) the visit from Tanya and Sven. She had pictured them all sitting in the living room like civilized people, making stilted conversation until Edward told Tanya in no uncertain terms to _fuck off_.

But Edward wasn't here, and Bella was no Esme Cullen.

"Human skin," murmured the vampire, studying her face. "I'd already forgotten. So delicate…so irregular…"

"You're hurting my wrist," she protested. _My writing hand_, thought Bella wildly. "Where is Tanya?"

"She went to campus to find _Edvard_." There was both boredom and resentment in the pronunciation of Edward's name. He continued to peer at Bella's face as if she were some fascinating aberration of science.

"Why don't we wait for them in the living room?" Bella tried to arrange her grimace of pain into something more normal. "I'll put some clothes on – we can talk. _Let_. _Go_."

Sven threw his head back and laughed. "You are very demanding for a human. I suppose Edward allows you to think you are on some sort of equal footing." He held her at a distance for a moment, to take in her wet skin, her bikini bottoms and bare feet. A nervous, hungry smile lifted his lips. His voice dropped to a low volume, the unnatural timbre revealing just how inhuman he was. "Tanya told me Edvard had a _spille objeckt. _A plaything."

He jerked Bella closer and touched his nose to her cheek, almost reverently. "Vat self-control he must have," he groaned. "Fucking Cullens."

Bella felt the hair on her neck rise. Sven was not as well trained as Alice might have believed. "I am his mate, not an _objeckt_!_"_ she insisted, wrenching her face away from him. "You will treat me with respect!"

He chuckled again and pushed Bella up against the bouncy wall. Surprised, he moved her back and forth against it experimentally. "_Very _interesting."

Bella resisted the urge to panic. She glanced at her phone, sitting on the bed. She felt Sven's cold fingers tickle down her waist, through the opening in the towel. She let out a cry of protest.

Did Edward know, had Alice alerted him? Or was he detained somehow? Tricked by Tanya, lured by Shakespearean taunts and cajolery, seduced by her gifts at last? In the library bathroom, on a study table, in the public atrium where the librarian scanned the code numbers! No, these were ridiculous thoughts.

Edward's love trumped Tanya's skills any day and besides, Sven was Tanya's mate now. Wasn't he? Surely there was some sexual loyalty, a code of fidelity that even a debauched succubus would hold valid?

Alice had said it was only a social visit; it was _only a brief social visit._

So why did it seem as if something had gone terribly, terribly wrong? "Let me go, you're going to break my arm!" she cried. "Edward won't be pleased."

"Edvard, Edvard," he groused. "I haven't met him yet and I'm already bored of him. What a small and fragrant creature you are. Heart like a hummingbird. Hold _still_ human! You mask the terrible stink." He chuckled in her ear; he stroked her side through the towel opening like he was petting a cat. "Are you the test? Or is the smell?"

"What test, what smell?"

"This must be the test, to put such a morsel in front of me and leave me alone with it." Sven pulled back and held her arm up, running his finger along the inside of her wrist, right over James's scar. His eyes widened in mild surprise. "You've been tasted before? But you remain a human…"

"You're vegetarian," she hissed at him. "Don't forget it!"

He emitted a sudden snarl and tightened his grip. "Ja, ja, what of it? I might have a 'go-back' today – if Tanya will bend. Just for your blood, little _godbit_. It's been _months_." He licked his lips and his eyes darkened; she could see the irises turn. "A drop, a drop, what would I do for just a drop?" he chanted, lowering his nose to her arm and inhaling.

"Tanya is strict in her beliefs, didn't you know?," said Bella desperately. "She would ditch her sisters over a single relapse! Throw them out of the coven; she's done it before to Irina!"

He raised his head sharply, frowning and Bella thought she might have found her salvation. "This is true," he said slowly.

"You must love Tanya very much," offered Bella. "She is an extraordinary woman."

"We are mated for eternity," said Sven, almost comedic in his wooden tone. "I cannot disappoint her."

"You're right, you can't disappoint her!"

He leaned in, with a dazed smile and whispered: "She doesn't have to know! We'll use a knife, ja? A small cut will do."

Bella recoiled, her heart dropping to her stomach. "I see you are _nothing_ like Edward," she said furiously.

This was perhaps not a wise comment. "Maybe a big cut," he sneered, gripping her chin painfully in his hand for a moment. He looked toward the bedroom door, the way to the kitchen. "This way I think."

"NO," moaned Bella, knowing full well that a drop would not be enough for an untried vegetarian. Tears welled up in her eyes and black spots were beginning to appear in her vision. If she fainted, it would be over.

_Edward. Come home, Edward._

She staggered as Sven pulled on her and the towel fell from her torso to the floor.

"Well, well," he said, stopping halfway to the door. "You are a little flat-chested for my tastes, but I can see why Edvard might be taken with you." He hooked his finger along beneath the tie of her string bikini top. "Does Edvard taste you or just fuck you?"

Bella inhaled sharply, the idea of _rape_ clearing her head for a moment. Fear for herself, oddly, seemed to dissipate. She could imagine Edward, finding her afterwards, defiled and emptied. Dead. He would go mad with grief; he would blame himself entirely, he would find a way to kill himself with or without the Volturi. The idea tore a hole in her heart. She had to save herself to save him.

"If you harm me," she bellowed suddenly, "Edward and Emmett and…" She almost couldn't think of their names for a second. "Jasper… _Carlisle_…will have your head. And Esme will roast it IN A BONDFIRE." Bella collapsed against Sven; the last of her energy had expired in her threat. "I am Edward's mate," she whispered, her head rolling forward. "His fiancé. His everything."

Some sense of obligation to Tanya – or perhaps to self-preservation - must have kicked in, for Sven released Bella at last. "FUCK-ING Cullens," he hissed at her.

Bella's knees buckled and she sank to the floor. She clutched her bruised arm and bent over, resting her head on the towel and holdng tenaciously onto consciousness.

"We don't need _saints_ as allies. Human-fucking-_filantrop_es. Holier-than-_du_ vampire. I don't even want to meet this Edvard, nor this _doktor-vampyr._ Carlisle." Sven paced at vampire speed beside her. "Their talents and their discipline and their academic _utmerkelser_. They set the bar too high, you understand? How can I compete with this?"

Bella's mind swam in delirium, while Sven paced beside her in a rage. What could she do, _what could she do_? She needed to cover up her near-nudity, she needed to get out of here, she needed her right arm to write her final tomorrow– no, wait, she needed her phone, she needed to prevent Freja's arrival, she needed to warn Edward about Tanya, she needed to check on Alice – _something must have happened to Alice, or she would have foreseen this…_

"It's like I am being tested," Sven continued, spitting venom in the air. "All the time Tanya tests me, you know? Eat this, don't eat this. Vat vould you do if the sun is shining, Sven? Vat vould you do if a human, a priest and a vampire walk into a bar? And ve drive around in that old French Citroen, like it is a shrine to Edvard fucking Cullen."

The phone was her only hope.

Bella took a deep breath and rose enough to crawl unsteadily toward the bed, her right arm almost collapsing under her weight. _Come home Edward_, she would type, if only her fingers could get there and complete the task. She would even stoop to abbreviation: _cme hme E._ Sven's rant stopped abruptly. She crawled, anticipating his comment of disdain, his blur of movement to cruelly remove the phone from her reach at the last moment.

No, Sven was inhaling. Sniffing the air. "_Gud_, what _is_ that?" he yelled suddenly. He slapped his hand over his nose and mouth, his voice a muffled whine. "It is stronger now. I could smell it from the woods, both _forferdelig _and _overbesendie. ' _Follow your nose', she had said and I did_._"

He started to growl. "It's closer and closer," he said, his voice sending chills of horror down Bella's spine. A voice as terrifying, as feral, as base as Victoria's, as Aro's, as Felix's. She'd heard that noise before, in the chest of Emmett, in the bowels of Voltaire's castle. In the forest near Forks.

The smell. The absence of Alice's warnings.

She was an idiot for not having seen it before.

It was Jake she had to text. He was near. Near enough to blind Alice. Bella rose to her knees, reached across the bed and grabbed her phone. She stared at the screen.

Three missed messages:

From Jake: _Ur address is the proof._

From Edward: _Vampire in the neighborhood; don't go in the woods; text me back that you're okay. _

From Alice: _I CANT SEE YOU. Go 2 Edward meedtly._

Her elbows on the bed, Bella opened the QWERTY keyboard to type: _GET OUT NOW._

Too late. The door slammed open, crashing into the wall, and the huge form of Jacob Black stepped inside in the doorway.

&8&8&

Edward closed the door behind him.

"Hello, Edward. It's been a while."

"You didn't bring Sven," he said flatly. "Where is he?"

Tanya lowered herself to a chair and crossed her legs, the motion fluid and sensual. He had forgotten that she was always 'on'.

"He would like to meet you too," she said brightly.

"Where is he now?"

"I left him in the woods. Gave him a task. The library contained too many living, thumping vessels for his comfort. Dodging sunlight discreetly takes practice, too." She looked out the window, and just then the sun moved out from behind a cloud, pouring swiftly across the quad's lawn below them.

Edward stared down at her, trying to read if she was telling the truth. It gelled with Alice's version anyway.

"So he has not completely adjusted."

Tanya's façade broke, just a little. "Sven won't eat Bella," she sniffed, "if that is your concern."

"He won't even meet her, so _no_, it will not be my concern. I ask you both to move on, though." He stood with his hands at his sides, vampire-still, eyes cold. "Get out of town."

"Ouch. Harsh." Tanya raised her eyes to his and a short staring match ensued.

_Why are you blocking me? _he wondered, his suspicions rising. _You won't last_.

_Razovyom my beryozu,_

_Razovyom my kudryavu!_

_Ai-da, da ai-da,_

_Ai-da, da ai-da,_

_Razovyom my kudryavu._

she answered in her head. Something about a boat? A folk song, he surmised.

"So, you're not even going to congratulate me?" She pushed out her lower lip in a pout. "Converting a vampire to animal blood is not an easy task. _Carlisle_ would be exuberant in his approval."

Edward didn't respond; he kept his face impassive.

"_Why, look you, how you storm_…" she murmured, a little sarcastically. "Still committed to your anger, I see."

He did not take the Shakespearean bait.

She sighed with disappointment and began to trace the table's pattern of faked wood grain with her index finger. "I _did_ apologize for calling you 'a lovely mouthful'. Some men would consider that a compliment."

"Your apology was a text. And you apologized to me, not to Bella."

"I have no interest in Bella," she sharply. "Only in you."

"We come together. A package. A team. Bella and I are _engaged_." He crossed his arms and had to look away then, because his smile threatened to emerge.

"So I heard. And your _innocence_…?"

He shook his head again, unable to speak or he would give away his glee. "That's none of your business," he managed at last.

"Ah, but your shit-eating grin gives you away. The virgin prize no longer." Her voice was shrill. The Cyrillic alphabet now charged furiously through her head. She was upset; she had called him _prize_ rather than _prince_, his despised nickname. A Denalian slip?

She had lost her prize to a teenaged human and she didn't like it one bit.

"Oh, Edward," Tanya cried softly. She tilted her head with some sort of feigned sympathy. "_Start, eyes. __Stretch out the line to th' crack of doom_!"

She had misquoted the Bard on purpose; he bit his tongue to prevent himself from correcting her. "I see no impending doom," he said steadily. "Your abusive postcards and texts have come to nothing."

She sat forward suddenly, her hands splayed on the table. "I was only trying to prepare you mentally, for what is to come! You nearly destroyed yourself in Italy when you lost her before."

"Oh, are you the seer now?" He was starting to lose his cool. Irritatingly, he could feel all the minds around him were watching them through the glass. Including a familiar 'mind-voice': Freja, about twenty library tables away. Only nonsense, however, from Tanya:

_Razovyom my beryozu,_

_Razovyom my kudryavu!_

Back to the fucking folksong.

"Experience has granted me some foresight, yes," she answered. "They were for your benefit, whether you understood that or not!"

"Bullshit. You were trying to sabotage my relationship!"

The corner of her mouth twitched. "I was not so much saboteur as provocateur, darling."

"What, for fun?" he snarled. "Which is it? Either you care for me too much or you are setting fires for your own amusement. You can't claim both."

"I do care for you, but I've learned that you are the one man in this world I cannot control - thanks to Alice and your invasive mind-reading." She looked him squarely in the eye.

_Razovyom my beryozu,_

_Razovyom my kudryavu!_

_HOW_ had she become so adept at blocking him? If she thought he was going to acknowledge her newfound ability to block him, she was going to be disappointed.

"I can only warn you," she continued, when he didn't respond the way she wanted.

"Outrageous and unfounded speculation!" he laughed harshly. "The one that Bella would 'lay down with my enemy' was a real winner! Yeah, I was totally convinced."

"And she might still. She might today, even." Tanya's blonde brow rose in a challenge.

"Oh, today, really," he replied, wondering where the hell she was going with this.

She sat back in her chair again, and examined her nails. "I did my best to take care of the dog. But it looks like even a succubus cannot dissuade him from pursuing her."

Edward stood speechless for a moment. "Layla. Your favorite Eric Clapton song."

"Just catching on now?"

He sank to the chair, astonished. "You are Layla. The werewolf seductress. YOU."

"I knoooow, and yes, it was utterly disgusting." She wrapped her arms around herself. "I thought it would help."

"Help _what_? Wait, no – it's impossible. You were in Vladivostok. It was someone else. Irina, who prefers young men."

"I came back."

"To do Jacob Black? Seriously?" He put his hands in his hair, utterly frustrated by her mind-blocks. How could he tell when she was telling the truth?

She assumed a sulky expression, though it could also be interpreted as smug. "I had plenty of time to think on my swim. I stopped in Vladivostok for a few days, sent you a postcard, then decided to swim back. I was truly worried about Bella's loyalty and your naïveté. _You_ hadn't seen them together, when you were in Brazil. I did. I tracked them a few days, with some difficulty, considering the dangers of the reservation. They were more than friends, Edward," she said gently. "A good match, I thought."

"None of this matters now!" said Edward angrily. "I am back; they are friends. Bella and I are going to be married. Why the HELL would you debase yourself like that?" There was more to this, he was sure. Her story was bizarre, not even credible! Tanya was choosy with her sexual escapades – NO WAY would she have sex with a teen werewolf.

She leaned forward again, her eyes pleading. "Don't you see, now, how much I care for you? That I would try to prevent their betrayal and save you from '_the most unkindest cut of all_'? I tried to re-route his feelings, redirect them from her to me."

"You ended Jake's crush on Bella, I'll grant you that. He's been pestering Bella for information about you since October." Edward hit his fist onto the table. "But I don't have to defend Bella to you, goddamn it."

Tanya tapped her chin, thoughtfully. Still composed as ever! "I don't think I did end it, for once. Perhaps werewolves are immune to my gifts. Why do you think he is here, in Hanover?"

Edward blanched. "He's not here! He would have told Bella he was coming."

She chortled. "Yes. I am sure he did. She knows very well he is here. Perhaps she doesn't want to hurt your feelings."

"Bullshit."

"You don't like to talk about him. You are jealous."

"Yes - no! Kate told you this, didn't she?"

"Yes. He is here, Edward. I was surprised too. I passed him not long ago, on the road."

"But…" Edward glanced at his phone. Alice's message sat there on the screen: _I CANT SEE WHAT SHES DOING. _Alice hadn't been referring to Tanya's unpredictability. Alice had meant Bella.

Alice couldn't see Bella.

"Yes," Tanya soothed, reaching across the table to cover Edward's hand with her own. "Alice doesn't even know about it. Highly convenient, carrying on an affair with a werewolf."

The door opened.

"Not now, Freja," barked Edward.

"I'll bet you're Kate's sister," said Freja, taking a wobbly step inside the little room. She glanced at Tanya's hand, covering Edward's. "You're, like, waaay too sexy to be in here with him? Ha ha HAH!" She leaned forward and slapped her knee.

Tanya did a quick sweep of Freja's wacky attire and unstable comportment. "Is this drunk person relevant?"

"Aren't you supposed to be studying with Bella right now?" asked Edward tersely, standing up suddenly.

Freja tore her eyes from Tanya (it was difficult even for heterosexual women). "Oh. Is that today? I must have lost a day. Oops."

Edward swallowed, a low, thrumming sense of panic climbing up his brain. "I just realized, Tanya, that you set a newborn loose within a ten mile radius of a _wolf_. A wolf who is likely to go to my house. I'm going home, and I suggest you collect your newborn. Fucking NOW."

Freja's head rolled back over to Tanya. "You left a baby in the woods? That's not very nice. Bella said you weren't very nice."

"The sun's come out, Edward," called Tanya, as he reached the door. "I'll need a ride."

He practically spat over his shoulder. "I'm on a motorcycle, with a single helmet. _Manage_."

"Edward!"

"WHAT?" he turned and hollered, not caring who could hear him through the glass. "What the FUCK do you want from me, Tanya?"

She spoke so rapidly and so quietly that no one heard but Edward: "I gave up trying to fix things. You know I want you. I'll always be here for you, whether Bella the human betrays you, Bella the newborn can't remember you, and even if you are mated to her forever. But sometimes you have to let fate fall where it may, leave something to chance_! There's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will._"

Edward stared at her a moment, trying with all his might to pry open a fissure in her mind. To no avail.

_Razovyom my beryozu,_

_Razovyom my kudryavu!_

"How carefully have you hewn this one, Ms. MacBeth?" he cried, wrenching open the door.

"But-!" protested Tanya, but Edward was gone.

"Lady MacBeth commits suicide," commented Freja.

"Offstage," added Tanya.

&8&8&8&

So all my Norwegian translations are from Google . I typed in 'morsel' and got 'godbit'. I love that! Who knows how accurate the others are. PM me if you know better.

In Tanya's head is from the Song of the Volga Boatmen. You can google it.

Thanks for reading. Let me know if the action meets the right pace, or is dragging a bit. Hard to tell when one is too close to one's own writing!


	32. Chapter 32: The Blood and the Power

Hello –

I am picking up new readers here and there. Cool!

Thank you to those who have stuck with this story for TWO WHOLE YEARS. You have perseverance, a highly admirable quality.

**Chapter 32: The Blood and the Power**

"Oh Jake." Bella curled her fingers to her face in dreadful anticipation.

"Yeah, _surprise_. I've been ringing the doorbell for ages," said Jake, exasperated. He glanced from Sven – standing there with his hand over his nose, his eyes stretched wide—to Bella on her knees – then jerked his head back to Sven.

"Uh, _you're not Edward_." He took in Bella's bikini-ed, dishevelled appearance. "Shit, Bella, are you all right?"

The vampire extended a trembling finger: "You!" he squeaked. "You don't smell human." He took a step backward. "What sort of test is this?"

Instantly, Jake assumed an aggressive half-crouch. "Who is this, Bels?" He snapped his jaw, already behaving like his lupine form.

"Go, Jake – leave!" pleaded Bella. "It's not safe!"

"No way," he hissed. "I won't be sidetracked." Though he addressed Bella, his eyes were glued to Sven. "Not anymore. She was here – Layla! I can smell her!" He moved, two steps to his left, placing the bed between Sven and himself.

"She was? You can?" Bella wanted to cry for him. His face wore trepidation, confusion, hope—joy! Jake moved slowly to the left, and Sven moved in kind; they were circling the bed. Bella watched breathlessly, her weight propped unsteadily against the mattress.

"Vat am I supposed to do with this one?" Sven asked no one in particular. His eyes darted through the door, toward the kitchen, as he scuttled, crab-like. "And vhere is this Layla?"

"Yeah, where is she? Her scent is coming from you, bloodsucker!" snarled Jake, his forehead crinkling. "I smell her on you! It's…it's all over you." He convulsed, like a sob, the possibilities moving across his face.

"All over me?" The vampire laughed derisively, a nasal, honking sort of noise. Okay, he was definitely _not_ like Edward.

"What you smell is his mate _Tanya_," interjected Bella, her palms open in a diplomatic plea. "There is no Layla here!" She swung her head around, left, right, watching them both as Jake circled around toward her. She knew either of them could easily leap over the bed at any moment, that Jake might explode into his furry alter-ego and the violence would begin.

Bella resisted the instinctive urge to flee through the open French door. Run, RUN, said her adrenaline. All her experience kept her knees on the carpet. A vampire's instinct is to attack a running creature. It would be over in moments, Jake or no Jake.

"Then she's the same," Jake asserted. "I'm tellin' you, _that_ is her scent. And she is _mine_, goddamnit!" He set his jaw in determination. "My imprintee!"

"I do not know this vord – imprinty," said Sven, stepping deftly sideways over Edward's piles of books and discarded clothes along one side of the bed. "Why do you look human and smell like hate?"

Jacob rose to his full 6'7" height and bayed, "Because I am the Alpha wolf of the Olympic Peninsula Quiluete tribe. I am bound to my woman and I have come to claim her back!"

"I know of you!" shouted Sven with equal aggression. "A stalker—ja! She told me about the men who vant to own her. The men who plague her after one night in bed-"

"Were you listening?" Bella was shouting now too. "_Wolf_, he just said! He's not your usual Native Americ-"

"This was no casual lay!" interrupted Jake, now standing directly behind Bella. "We made love – _for real_. She wants me – it says so here!" He reached into his back pocket, never taking his eyes from Sven, and withdrew a twice folded sheet of writing paper. It was pink. He shook it in his fist. "She said we would meet here – at your address, Bella. YOUR address. _Now_ deny that you know her!"

Bella shook her head, unwilling to accept that Tanya was his imprintee.

"Tanya does not want a stalker _pubertet," _ sneered Sven. "An unvashed teenager that smells like a dog bed! I make love to her many times a day, ever since Helsinki. We smell good, all the time."

"No, no, you lie, you foreign piece of shit." Jake lowered his chin, his head wagging back and forth in denial. "Not…not Layla." His breathed hitched; he held his letters to his chest. "She loves me! I've imprinted, I tell you."

"Is it always mutual, Jake?" implored Bella gently. "How do you know it's mutual?"

"My letters!"

"I think someone else wrote your letters," said Sven.

"No!" Jake jerked his head back and forth more vigorously.

"Listen, Jake – you've got to stand down," Bella tried again, twisting to look up at him. "This isn't the same girl – it can't be. Tanya was in Russia when you received letters postmarked _Boston_."

She shifted around to the end of the bed, walking on her knees. "You two have nothing to fight about! _Stand down, both of you_. Go back to your car! Sven, go back to the woods and wait until Tanya gets here! We'll ask her! Then we'll know for sure."

They both stopped circling for a moment, considering this idea. Bella glanced longingly at her phone. _Edward come home._

Jake let out a sigh, his massive shoulders drooping a bit. "I've been sitting in the car for an hour, Bells. Waiting. I've been in Forks for nine months – waiting. Waiting to hear from Layla, waiting to graduate high school so my dad won't freak out. Now I am finally here, and I smell her, Bells. On him!" he choked. "It has to be her – the scent's as distinct as yours or mine. And who else would write such letters? Who else would know?"

Bella's mind reeled. Who knew about it? Kate and Irina. The Cullens. "What about Sam?" she blurted. "Trying to send away his rival for Alpha?"

"Maybe your friend Bella!" snorted the vampire, pointing at Bella. "HAH, I know, _Edvard_ wrote them, to bring you here the same day, ja?" He tilted his head to the side. "To make trouble for me, perhaps." He spat on the floor, like an insult. "The Cullen men want the Denalis for themselves, I am sure of it."

"Uh, it's more the other way arou—" said Bella.

"Shut _up,_" roared Jake, though not to Bella. "It's not Edward, it's not Sam, it's my _imprintee_," he cried to Sven, as if that should explain all. "I don't believe you. I don't believe you." He swiped his huge brown palm at the corner of his eye and Bella realized he was crying. "It's all calligraphied," he said desperately, holding the letters in front of him with reverence. "Poetry stuff. What guy writes like that?"

"Uh, well—"said Bella, again.

Tears began to stream down Jake's face. He turned to her, bereft, his eyes begging for the answers he wanted to hear.

"Oh, Jake," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Sven laughed, sounding almost maniacal. "Look: TEARS! Pitiful humans! Deluded into thinking we could love you!" He spread his arms wide and lifted his chin, an expression of supreme certainty in his eyes. "The _vampyr_-goddess is mine, and if she brought you here, then it is so I can end your life, foul stalker. If Edvard brought you here, then I will show him who is Tanya's mate forever."

Bella's phone chimed. For a split second, they all looked at it.

Then Sven launched himself across the bed. Bella screamed. For a moment, Bella thought Jake, the (likely) jilted lover, would simply accept the fate of death. He didn't even raise his arms, but stood with his hands at his sides, his precious letters in both hands, his brown-streaked face hopeless with despair.

Sven bowled the huge figure of Jake to the ground and sank his teeth into Jake's neck. Bella's scrabbled to her feet.

Immediately, Sven recoiled in disgust, raising his head to stare at his victim. "What are you?" he screamed.

"I'M. NO. HUMAN," gurgled Jake, his voice already transforming into a howl.

Then he exploded. Jake's clothes, his watch, his shoes and his attacker flew back across the room.

Sven hit the bouncy wall, an expression of utter surprise on his features. "This is not possible!" he shrieked, landing gracefully on his feet.

Jake the werewolf was instantly upon him. They rolled, they flew, they used the bouncy walls to launch themselves at one another, teeth tearing and limbs hurtling. The French doors were shattered like a car windshield when the pair rammed themselves against it. Bella climbed to her feet and backed up against the bathroom entryway, terrified to stay, terrified to leave. Her phone lay six feet away, but right in the line of fire.

She thought, for almost a full minute, that Jake would emerge triumphant. He was stronger, bigger! Sven was pinned beneath him, but the vampire jerked back and forth so quickly that Jake couldn't get a mouth-hold on him. Blood poured over the vampire – wait—blood? Yes, there was blood all over the room, smeared on the walls, pooled on the floor.

Jake's blood. Sven's very first bite had gouged into Jake's throat. His wound couldn't heal faster than his heart – his big, generous, heart! – could pump and the blood gushed from his throat. Jake managed to get his canine teeth on Sven's shoulder – then they both seemed to freeze. Jake took a noisy wheeze of a breath and collapsed.

"Jake!" screamed Bella, staggering toward the pair of them. "JAKE!" She reached them as Sven heaved to roll the enormous wolf's body off of him. "Jake," she sobbed, burying her face in his furry chest. "No, no, no. Don't give up!"

Sven was spitting, panting, whimpering in terror, muttering a string of Norwegian words that could only be obscenities. Suddenly he was on his feet, beside Bella. "VAT IS THIS?" he screamed in her ear. "VAT KIND OF CREATURE CAN DO THIS?"

As Sven spoke, Jake's body was collapsing, compacting, his fur retracting and his brown, naked skin reforming beneath Bella's fingers. His wound continued to drain, the blood soaking into the carpet. Bella grabbed her towel, sitting exactly here she had dropped it, and pressed it to the side of Jake's neck.

His eyes were open, staring at nothing. She almost shrieked when his mouth moved.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he gurgled.

"Jake," she cried, her tears dripping onto his face. "Rally, Jake. RALLY. You are too good to die. Too good for Layla. Please, Jake," she sobbed. "Heal yourself.!"

"Tell Layla, I'm sorry," he said, his vowels wet and soft. His eyes fluttered closed and his limbs lost their tension. Time seemed to slow as his chest rose and fell, rose and fell again. Then he was still.

Bella wailed his face in her palms, her forehead on his chest. No, it could not be. Werewolves heal like wildfire, don't they? DON'T THEY? But Jacob Black had retreated. He wasn't even reacting to the venom, the way the change had been described to her. Werewolves can't become vampires, she supposed. His eyes were vacant, his mouth open, his breath still. "Jake," she cried. "Jake, Jake, Jake…"

Then Bella felt the pain of a hand in her hair, lifting her up. And the tug on the knot on her bikini top.

&8&8&8

A 2.13 mile radius. The extent of Edward's gift at today's forty-two percent relative humidity. Within thirty seconds he'd be able to read the minds of anyone -besides Bella –who might be at Twelve Balch Hill Road.

Jacob Black? Sven? Maybe neither. Maybe both – a lethal combination.

_Please_, he begged God. _Let me find her relaxing in the Jacuzzi or chatting with Jake at the kitchen table. _Edward tilted the Ducati on the curve, pushing his control of the vehicle to its limit.

Suddenly he saw the mind of the neighbor at the end of the road, 2 Balch Hill Road: _Gotta figure out my deductions._ A late tax return came into view.

Now the neighbor four doors down, 6 Balch Hill Road: _Again? But I just changed your diaper!_ A baby's face, round and pink and twitchy. The others houses were empty of thoughts or vision.

The horror of 12 Balch Hill Road unfolded through the eyes of another vampire.

She was not alone.

There was blood everywhere.

"Bella!" cried Edward into the wind.

_Panicked, furious thoughts. Thoughts of disgust, of bloodlust, of confusion and anxiety. _They were distinctly Norwegian but Edward caught their universal meaning. His own panic rose and fell in a sort of staccato the moment Bella came into Sven's view.

Bella was naked; water dripped from her hair and ran down her skin. Sven's palm was pressed on her abdomen, holding her seated in a chair – one of Esme's antique elm wood Windsor chairs. "Jake!" she sobbed, her face screwed up in anguish. "Jake, Jake."

Sven was tying her to the spindles now, using what looked like green polyester ties. Her head fell forward and her slender shoulders shook; she didn't even struggle. She was not bloody -was she hurt? "I'm coming, I'm coming," Edward repeated at vampiric speed.

By now Edward had reached the point where it was quicker to cross Balch Hill on foot rather than go the long way around on the highway. What do you know, someone else was aware of the same proximity. A cream-coloured Citroen sat parked on the side. 'Demon _bitch_,' snarled Edward, leaping off the Ducati and letting it simply careen into the back of the vintage car with an obscene crunch of metal. He tore off his helmet and sprinted into the trees. Could his feet move any faster? He willed it so.

_Bella Bella Bella my love my life. I will reach you in time._

"Shut up!" Sven was screaming. "Shut up so I can think vat to do!" Sven's thoughts pinged inside his head: he was desperate for Bella's blood, but desperate that Tanya didn't find out. He was bewildered by the huge boy that had become a wolf and become a human again upon death. The sight of blood everywhere was testing his control, an addiction he thought he had mastered. He contemplated drinking Jake's blood again – the boy clearly wasn't human, surely Tanya would agree? No - Sven was immediately repulsed.

Edward reached the top of the hill as he saw Sven's vision turn back to Jake. Hissing Norwegian curses, Sven picked up Jake's ankle and dragged his bloody body across the carpet, suddenly flinging him through the broken French doors. Jake landed in the swimming pool in a spectacular splash. His lifeless body rolled one way, stopped, then the other. Finally his weight flipped him over, face down. Edward could hear (through Sven's ears) Bella crying still: "Jake, Jake, Jake," as Jake's blood began to filter into the water.

Sven wheeled around, stared at Bella's naked form for a millisecond; he made his decision. "Just a drop, just a drop," he chanted, making his way back into the kitchen. "She won't even guess, she won't even guess."

"No, no, NO," Edward roared in return. As the back yard of the house came into Edward's view, he could see Sven through the kitchen window, selecting a knife from the drawer. Sven's bloodlust rose in a heady rush; Edward experienced it as if it were his own.

8&8&

Bella was beginning to shiver. She sat slumped forward, staring at the blood on her toes. Water dripped from her hair onto her knees, running down to her feet in little rivulets and joining the blood splashes in amoebic, watery shapes. Jake's blood. _Jake, oh Jake_. She heard the splash of his body in the pool, but couldn't bear to look.

He had come here hoping to reunite with a badly chosen imprintee, and had died thinking Layla had betrayed him. Bella felt like she had betrayed him herself. She should have investigated further, warned him, helped him, headed him off- long before he got in his car to drive across the country. And now he was dead. She sobbed his name and her tears dripped onto her knees, creating new patterns of blood and water.

She noted the flash of reflected light on a knife blade – and looked up.

"Just a drop," Sven was humming, holding the knife up like the psychopath in a horror film. Bella couldn't even scream; her throat had gone dry. He was looking at her, well not _at her_, but at her body, as butcher contemplates whether to slice along the grain or against it. "Just a drop…I'll catch it in my mouth…she'll never know."

He was calm, now that he had made his decision. He gently pulled on Bella's elbow, extracting her hand from the stretchy cords of her bikini top.

She felt removed from it all, as if this was someone else's hand, someone else's arm. She wasn't going to die. She couldn't, she wouldn't! She could not do it to Edward. To lose their love, their_ forever_-life, to a jumped up, random Denali boyfriend? Impossible. Yet she expected Sven would not be able to stop the moment her skin was broken.

Just last night, she and Edward had murmured their _love you forever'_s before she had drifted off to an all-too-brief rest. A few hours ago, she had written all about eternity in her poetry exam, with the serene confidence that only love can bring.

_Eternity of time was the sole means to revitalize the wasteland of modern life_ -or something like that, she had argued on behalf of Mr. T.S. Eliot. As she scribbled out her thoughts, she had found herself appreciating the richness of her own modern life, the self-perpetuating nature of the happiness she and Edward shared. Last summer they had set out from Forks with secrets and resentments and the challenge of consummation. Last summer there were too many unknowns.

Now their life together was more like the species–rich meadow that swelled or rested as easily and as naturally as the seasons. Their days and nights were populated with mutual respect and humor and intellectual tugs and carnal heights and the quiet comfort of each other's presence. Though she wasn't a vampire, she felt she had already achieved a sort of eternity through love.

Dare she ask that it continue? Whether for a single human lifetime or as a pair of immortal beings? She certainly felt she wasn't finished yet.

"I am not finished," she whispered, watching as Sven cut a short slit on her forearm. The red seeped out. Sven groaned and his eyes flicked to her throat. He set his jaw and lowered the knife again, lengthening the cut, from elbow down toward her wrist. The blood ran; she hardly noticed the pain.

"I am not finished," she said, a little louder, lifting her head. "I want to live," she told Sven.

He wasn't listening. He tipped his head, his eyes going black, his mouth opening to catch the line of blood as it flowed toward her elbow. "God!" he cried. "Not fast enough, not enough!"

"Please, Edward," she let out a sob. "Come home to me."

Sven raised his head and put his cold hands on either side of her cheeks. 'Don't worry, _godbit_," he crooned, her own blood bubbling at his lips. "I've had an idea. Ve'll say the dog killed you. They don't have to know!" He brushed his finger along her cheek, catching a new tear. "Such a beautiful plaything," he said softly. He tilted her chin, exposing her throat. "Edvard vill miss you."

A cannonball came through the wall and ripped Sven from his feet.

Sven and Edward bounced against the wall and _an arm_ came spinning to rest at her feet. Bella screamed at it. And screamed again. Her screams were joined by a man's.

A leg, at least the bit from the knee down, bounced out of the broken French doors and landed on the pool coping, the toes dipped in the water, as if someone were testing the temperature but forgot to take off their shoe.

Bella vomited onto her feet.

After another thirty noisy, destructive seconds– all was still. Bella raised her head, slowly, in dread, and let out a gasp of relief when she saw an unharmed Edward. However, he was sitting on top of a squirming legless and armless torso.

She jerked her eyes to his face. "You came home."

"Yes, I came home," said Edward, his voice low and feral, "almost too late." His upper lip twitched, his teeth bared – he was still in fighting mode. Edward's frame was coiled like a spring, sinew strung and muscles taut, the definition sharp in his neck and forearms.

"Almost," she agreed hoarsely.

The body beneath him twitched and protested in a rise-and-fall moan. Edward had stuffed one of the dismembered arms into Sven's mouth, muffling his cries. Edward's palm held Sven's head firm against the carpet

She fought the urge to throw up again.

"He cut your arm."

She nodded, suddenly noticing the sting of pain. She held the wet cut side against her abdomen. "I know," she replied in a high pitched yelp. "It's not deep. I'll be okay."

"Bella." Edward's eyes traced down her naked body. "Is that all he did to you?"

"Yes…no… _Jake_."

A look of pain crossed Edward's countenance, then softened. "I know, Bella," he said gently, sounding more like himself now. Edward looked out toward the pool, where Jake's ever-still figure floated in the water. "I'm so sorry."

"Tanya … did she…?"

"She _detained_ me," he said in a flat voice, and Bella wondered what that meant exactly. Sven hollered behind his own wrist at the mention of Tanya's name.

"Tanya is Layla," said Edward and "Layla is Tanya," said Bella simultaneously. Bella nodded, heaving a breath. They both stared at one another, wondering at all that the revelation implied.

"I want to put some clothes on," cried Bella, feeling suddenly exposed and tearful again. Each foot was tied to a chair leg, and it was impossible to pull her knees completely together. A hot flush of shame washed over her, though logic told her she had no reason to feel such an emotion.

"Do you think you can you free yourself?" asked Edward, his voice even. "I dare not let him up."

"But…but he has no arms or legs," stated Bella dazedly, glancing down at the dismembered forearm near her feet. It looked a lot like Edward's hand, like the auburn hair on his arms, like his long musician's fingers

"Yes, but he has lethal teeth," said Edward, and he showed her his other arm, the one not holding Sven's head down. It was a leaking stump.

Bella snapped her eyes shut and willed her stomach to behave. Okay, it _was_ Edward's hand at her feet.

"Doesn't it hurt?" she asked, when she was sure she wasn't going to vomit again. She opened her eyes.

"Yes," he croaked. "Now cut yourself free," he instructed. He nodded to the bloody kitchen knife on the floor.

She wriggled her bound hand, and found she could pull it free. "A bikini makes a terrible rope," she commented, with a slightly hysterical chuckle.

"Oh," said Edward. "It's…a bikini?"

Bella nodded and rose unsteadily to her feet, holding onto the chair for support.

"Attend to your wound. Get dressed."

Bella nodded, a little taken aback by the commanding tone in his voice. Carefully, she edged around the two vampires and the blood soaked puddles in the carpet. In the bathroom she quickly washed her arm, and found gauze bandages and surgical tape under the sink. The cut was still bleeding, but it would have to do. She cleaned the blood and vomit from her knees and toes, then threw on underwear, a t-shirt and some jeans from the laundry.

"You must hurry, Bella," came Edward's voice, stronger now. "He won't take long to heal."

"Oh!" she cried, moving faste rnow. She splashed some water on her face; she looked absolutely terrible. She was desperate to brush her teeth, to comb her hair. It would have to wait.

She rushed back into the bedroom.

"Shoes!" barked Edward. "You're going to campus."

"Okay!" replied Bella, still unsettled by his cold demeanor. Her eyes filled with tears again while she ran back into the closet. She shoved her feet, sockless, into sneakers.

She stepped back into the room, wiping the tears away.

"Good." He nodded. "Now go get a couple of small logs from the woodpile."

"Oh?"

"_Do it_! Bring them back in here and fetch some matches from the kitchen. MOVE."

She did as he asked, as fast as her shaky limbs would allow. "I am starting a fire," she stated hesitantly, setting everything down before the bedroom fireplace. She was beginning to catch on to his intentions and felt more ill than ever. Edward wasn't acting like himself at all. _Had_ Tanya done something to him? Said something to him? Persuaded him to burn her would-be mate? Persuaded him _to be her mate_?

Edward nodded. "The flue should be open already."

Bella knew how to make a successful fire; Charlie had instructed her in the art the first winter in Forks. She put paper, kindling twigs and the a few logs in a deliberate arrangement and lit the match, though her hands shook so much she could barely light the newspaper.

Sven's wails and protests were getting more and more vehement as the fire began to grow. Edward spat out a curse when he almost lost a finger trying to get the dismembered hand back in Sven's mouth for the second time.

Bella added more kindling to the flames. She wrung her hands and felt she should question Edward: '_is this what Carlisle would do_?' and '_what would Alice say this meant for the future_?' Bella took in the nightmarish scene in her bedroom – the blood on the carpet, the limbs on the floor, the broken walls. It was a horror film. And there was still Tanya to deal with! She glanced out at Jake, his naked body floating in the bloody water and her heart ached for her dead friend.

And where was Tanya now? She had probably set all this up, yet she couldn't possibly have known which way the fight would go. Any one of them could have been killed! There were too many variables, to claim control or even intent. Without her presence Tanya could remain blameless somehow.

Bella was desperate to get some answers.

She turned back to find Edward watching her intently. He wore one of his awful expressions, one she recognized as his own particular brand of self-loathing. Why? She wanted to reach out for him, to comfort him and to be comforted. "Edward," she began softly.

"Would you please gather up Sven's arms and legs?" Though he had phrased it like a question, his tone did not allow refusal. "And put them in the fire?"

Sven screamed then, and flipped his body over, but Edward was ready for this. Shapeless stubby things had formed in the sleeves and pants' legs where the limbs had been, and they batted at Edward. Edward pushed the body down but rose to his feet, dodging Sven's teeth with a grim sigh of irritation.

He hauled Sven's torso up by his shirt collar and dragged the body across the bloody carpet. He gave the discarded arm a little kick, and it landed at Bella's feet.

Swallowing the bile in her throat, Bella picked it up gingerly by the wrist and put it on top of the fire. It burst into flames and Sven hollered in Norwegian.

"Shut up, _Hæstkuk_," commanded Edward, addressing Sven for the first time. "Keep going, Bella." He nodded toward the leg outside, at the pool's edge. "That foot. Don't look at Jake, if it helps."

A sweet burning smell was filling the air, like applewood or toffee. Bella stepped over the broken glass and out the French doors to the pool, where she averted her eyes from Jake and went straight for the leg at the edge of the pool. She put that one in the fire too, which, amazingly already had obliterated the arm into a blacked, arm-shaped piece of charcoal.

Sven would not stop jabbering now, until Edward said: 'What do you think Bella? Shall we do _all_ the limbs?" His eyes finally seemed to communicate with her. _Trust me_, they said. She stared back.

"Yes," she whispered. "We should do all the limbs." Sven made another violent attempt to bat at Edward, who held him up by his shirt collar. Sven's stubs seemed longer now. Bella was reminded of a live, grotesque piñata. When Bella had put the last of Sven's limbs on the fire, she straightened and turned.

"Look him in the eye, Bella," directed Edward. Bella swallowed and lifted her chin. Her eyes flicked to Sven's face, his handsome, Edward-like, twisted face.

"I don't know if you've been properly introduced, Sven," continued Edward sternly, in between Sven's sobs, "but this is Miss Isabella Marie Swan. She is the lady of this house. She is my mate, my betrothed, and a member of the Cullen Coven, _Gran Priore dell'Eminentissimo Ordine Volturiano.__"_

_Bella nodded as if she agreed, when Edward paused for effect. _

_"__You will show her every respect and courtesy, in whatever circumstances you may come across her." His voice boomed, Emmett-like. "You will respect her privacy, her home, her body, and her words. She may be human or she may be immortal, but she is your superior in every way. Do you understand?"_

_Sven let out a string of vehement Norwegian words and Edward cuffed him across the top of the head._

_"__Say it, goddamnit!" demanded Edward, losing his cool for a moment. "Tell her that she is your superior."_

_Sven seemed to rally at this; Bella had to admit he had some spirit. "She is human; she is food and fucking, and nothing more."_

_"__You will lose a limb again for your disrespect," spat Edward and he reached in one of the sleeves and plucked off a stubby, shapeless arm-thing. Sven screamed in pain._

_Bella whimpered and took a step back, clutching her hand to her mouth._

_"__Keep it together, Bella," encouraged Edward, as he threw the paddle-like limb easily on top of the fire. She took a deep breath and took a step forward again._

"Here is all that is left," announced Edward. "Sven's torso and head. The fire is ready for him."

"NO!" screamed Sven. "No, no. Ah, uh…she is my superior! She is my superior in every way."

_"__You are my superior, __Miss Swan__," corrected Edward, his voice as cold as she had ever heard it._

_"__You are my superior Miss Swan!" shrieked Sven._

_"__Indeed," agreed Edward smoothly, though he was starting to struggle with the other developing limbs of his captive. "She has power over your very existence. What say you, Bella? Do we remove his head and toss it in the fire? End his tenure on this green earth?__"_

_Bella stepped back again, her mouth dropping open. She stared at Edward, while Sven cried and pleaded in Norwegian._

_"__You have the power, Bella." Edward said solemnly. "Believe it."_

_"__I…I…don't know."_

_"__He killed your friend Jake. He cut your arm and drank your blood. He was about to sink his teeth into your throat." Edward closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. "He was disrespectful__."_

_"__He loves Tanya."_

_"__That's right!" shrieked Sven. "I love Tanya. A Denali, __your ally!"_

_"__But you're not honest with her!" said Bella sharply to Sven. She raised her eyes to Edward's. "Sven was willing to lie to Tanya, about drinking my blood. He was going to blame Jake. He has no integrity."_

_Edward waited, neither encouraging nor discouraging her._

_"__He looks like __you__," said Bella to Edward, as if this were__ a reason not to kill him. Edward simply raised his eyebrows._

_There was a long moment of silence – well, except for Sven screaming. Edward had truly handed her the power of life and death. Edward had once claimed that playing God was wrong, that no one had the right to bestow the punishment of death. It was a double standard, however. The Cullens didn't hesitate to punish James, not for a second. They had dismembered his body and burned the pieces. Wasn't' this cruel and unusual? She hadn't thought about it at the time. When a human did such a thing, civilization labelled such a person psychopathic__._

_"__He..he should live," Bella decided, staring into Edward's blackened eyes. "He should live," she repeated. Of course he should. She was no murderer. She was not__ God. _

_Sven seemed to collapse in Edward's grasp at her decision._

_Edward gave a short, sharp nod. "It seems she has granted you a reprieve," he said. _

_"__Thank you, thank you," Sven wailed. Bella could not find any sympathy in her heart for the vampire, only a dull satisfaction that she had followed her conscience. _

_"__Stand back," __warned Edward, then he turned and tossed Sven into the comforter on the bed, and rolled him up in it, tucking the ends in like a sausage in pastry. The sausage struggled and Edward lifted it and tucked it under his arm. Bella noted that Edward's hand was beginning to re-form._

_"__What do we do with him now?" she asked, bewildered. _

_"__You need to get out of here," said Edward shortly. "Immediately, before Tanya gets here. Go to campus, somewhere there are a lot of people. People who know you and will notice if anything unnatural occurs."_

_"__Freja?"_

_"__No! She's drunk today – Tanya could drink your blood and Freja would simply stand there and run a crazy commentary."_

_Bella's hands went involuntarily to her throat. "But __Tanya…doesn't drink from humans."_

_"__Let's hope not," he said grimly. "I will no longer take anything for granted." He stared at Bella, his black eyes full of __anguish, then his head swung out to look at Jake in the pool. "My study group," he said suddenly, his eyes still on Jake. "Go and say you came to meet me there, that I will be back for my books. Stay with them, engage them, flirt if you have to, whatever. Second floor, Undergrad Library. Public witnesses are your protection. She wouldn't risk exposure."_

_"__So…she __is__ after me," said Bella flatly. "Tanya."_

_"__It is unclear what she is after, Bella," sighed Edward, shaking his head. "She has simply stirred the pot__."_

_Yeah, with an electric cattle prod__, thought Bella. __"She is after you, Edward. She wants you__."_

_"__I agree." They stared at one another for a moment. Bella stepped closer; she wanted to touch him, to embrace him - just to connect after this nightmare. But Edward stepped back. "This bundle grows more dangerous every moment we stand here. And Tanya must surely be on her way. __GO."_

_Bella grabbed her bag and with a final, heartbreaking glance at Jake, she ran toward the kitchen door. Jake's body would have to wait. Now__ belonged to the living, not the dead._

_"__Take the SUV!" hollered Edward. _

_"__Okay!" she shouted, fishing the keys from the drawer._

_"__And, Bella?" he called. It sounded like he was in the back yard already._

_"__Yes?"_

_"__I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."_

_She stared in the direction of his voice, her mind swirling._

_"__GO." _

_A minute later she was backing out the SUV, with one eye watching Edward as he disappeared into the trees, his squirming bundle under his arms__. What the hell was he going to do with Sven and how long would it take?_

_Bella put her foot on the accelerator and heard the crunch__ of metal on metal._

_Shrieking, she twisted around. Jake's car! Jake's old clunker was blocking the driveway and she hadn't even bothered to look._

_She pulled forward, right on to the lawn, then changed her mind. There was no way around Jake's car, not with all the retaining walls and the landscaping in the way. The SUV would tip right over and be useless._

_"__Fine!" she cried in frustration. She leapt out of the SUV, and made her way back into the bedroom. Where are your keys, Jake?" she shouted at his floating corpse. She scanned the stained and bloody carpet__. _

_There! In a pile of ripped jean fabric, his pocket was intact. She grabbed his keys and was back in the front seat in under thirty seconds._

_&8&8&_

_"__So, like, have you ever been in a car with Edward?" Freja asked. She couldn't take her eyes off Tanya. The woman looked like Grace Kelly. But also like a hooker._

_"__Yes, many times."_

_"__He dr__ives like a bat out of hell, too." Freja winced, as Tanya was changing gears a little forcefully. "Like he's running from the police. He doesn't like Volkswagens. Do you like Volkswagens?"_

_"__Stop talking, please. Or I will push you out of the car."_

_Freja cackled in response. She took a swig from her flask and waited to see if Tanya disapproved. The vodka burned on its way down. "Are your tits even bigger than Kate's?"_

_"__Yes. Bigger and better."_

_They pulled up to Bella's house with jerking stop._

_"__Hey look," said Freja, waving her flask. "Bella's in a Volkswagen too. A Rabbit." _

_Tanya didn't __answer, because she was miraculously out of the car already. Freja shrieked because Tanya stepped right behind the Rabbit as Bella was backing out of the driveway. There was a crunch of metal but it was the car that crumpled. Tanya stood firm._

_Tanya pulled open Bella's door and there was a lot of commotion. Freja took another swig, and then she watched Tanya, now in the driver's seat, turn the car the car around. Bella was righting herself on the passenger side. The poor old VW Rabbit was bashed in both front and rear bumpers._

_Freja leaned forward to watch. Bella turned and looked directly at Freja through the window. Her face was as white as Tanya's and Edward's. Freja thought she saw a white fist at Bella's neck, like a vise holding her in place. _

_Maybe they were going to look for the newborn that Edward had mentioned._

_"__I think you're probably right, Bella. Tanya isn't very nice," said Freja aloud. She couldn't imagine Tanya being nice to a baby. Who was it's mother? "Maybe I should go and tell Edward." _

_The Rabbit__ drove off in a screech of tires._

_Freja opened the car and staggered her way up the driveway to the house. The kitchen door was wide open. 'Hey Edward," she slurred. "HEY. Edward!" There was no answer. _

_Freja wandered in and out of the rooms downstairs. There was the sound of a crackling fire in Bella's bedroom. In May, really? _

_"__Holy shit." Bella's bedroom had two massive holes in the walls, one facing the back yard and one in the French doors. __Bricks and glass littered the carpet. The fire was burning merrily in the fireplace. Freja thought she could see a blackened shoe in the orange embers. The place was a mess, and someone had spilled Diet Coke all over the carpet. _

_"__Bella said you were a messy guy," she said, as if Edward were there. "She wasn't kidding."_

_Outside, a brown, naked man was swimming in the pool. He couldn't swim very well, she thought, because he was simply flailing his arms and lifting his head to cough._

_She stepped over the broken glass and out onto the patio as the man – no, he was a boy, really – climbed out of the pool. He was completely naked and really tall. Freja couldn't help but stare. He had more of a man's penis than a boy's. So it was okay to look, she thought. _

_She looked._

_He shook water from his hair, in a way that made her think of her family's Labrador, Snook'ems, back in Wisconsin. She really missed Snook'ems._

_"__Is Bella okay?" said the man-boy__, wiping the water from his eyes._

_"__She left with Tanya? In a Volkswagen Rabbit? Like mine. Old, maybe 1985? But it's a Rabbit__ model.__"_

_"__With Tanya?" he said, straightening. He was veryvery__ tall. And __veryvery__ naked. _

_"__Yeah."__ Freja took another swig. _

_"__Did you see which way they went?"_

_"__Toward the reservoir."_

_"__Will you drive me there?"_

_Freja cackled. "Sure?__"_

_*&8&8&_

_**Yeah, so Edward is acting a little strange. All will be explained, of course.**_

_**Thanks to Camilla for the Volturi title. **_

**_Hæstkuk _ is a derogatory term, that means 'horse penis' or something like that.**

_**This was unbeta'd, so let me know if you see errors.**_


	33. Chapter 33: In the Rabbit

_Thanks to BelleDean for acting as beta for this chapter. She found loads of errors. I cringe to think what is in the other recent chapters._

_Longest recap so far: Tanya and Edward argue and encounter an inebriated Freja at the library. Sven and Jake fight; Jacob loses. Edward and Sven fight; Edward dismembers Sven, but Bella declares he should live. Tanya and Freja arrive; Bella departs involuntarily with Tanya, and Freja discovers a recovering Jake in the pool. Edward, in ignorance, runs in the opposite direction, intent on neutralizing Sven before rejoining Bella._

**Chapter 33: In the Rabbit**

"Can't…breathe." Bella instinctively gripped the white forearm that pressed against her neck.

For a moment, she was released. Bella sucked in a lungful of air.

The forearm was back; Tanya had moved only to change into third gear. "Put your seatbelt on and I'll ease up," she said tersely. "I can't have you throwing yourself from the car." She chuckled darkly. "Not yet."

Bella complied in haste and Tanya withdrew her hand, letting it rest on the gearshift. It took a full minute before Bella could speak again; she leant forward and simply breathed. The cut on her arm was stinging now; her wrist ached where Sven had gripped it. Tanya drove on, barrelling down the winding, two-lane highway as fast as the 1984 Rabbit would take them.

"Don't you want to know," said Bella in a painful rasp, "if anyone survived?" She sat up again.

"Well, _you_ survived," snapped Tanya, her eyes flicking to the speedometer. "Pity."

"Jacob Black's dead. Floating in my pool. His throat torn out and his heart broken." Bella's voice rose to a near hysterical yell. "And I consider you his murderer!"

"Really," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Another pity. He was…_useful_."

"USEFUL?" choked Bella, disgusted but not surprised. "Of course. The only way to prevent Alice from seeing today's outcome." Lure Jacob here, on the same day, at the same time.

"Yes – clever of you, Bella Swan. Neither Alice nor Edward was aware of your affair. I enlightened Edward at the library. He was stunned by your betrayal."

"My…a..affair?" Bella faltered, hardly comprehending Tanya's words. "Don't be ridiculous," she burst out, with a near-laugh. "Edward wouldn't believe such an obvious lie."

"You must be devastated," Tanya continued waspishly, taking a curve a little too fast. "Your wolf-lover is dead; your rich vampire boyfriend is unlikely to offer you immortality now."

"Um, you're not going to convince _me_ with that vampire persuasion - especially since I am likely to know a little better than you what exactly I've been up to!"

"Edward didn't want to believe it either."

Bella stared. Was that why he was so distant, why he wouldn't touch her? Bella had been stripped of her bikini by the time Edward arrived. She was naked; Jake was naked. What would he have concluded?

"No," cried Bella. "There's no way Edward would believe it! I…I just lost my virginity to him last week. We're in love… engaged!" She held out her hand to show Tanya the ring.

"An unconsummated affair is still an affair." She refused to look at Bella's hand. "You had already deceived Edward in your mind. You were going to meet with Jacob today, perhaps go to bed with him if you could put aside your guilt, she said matter of factly. "Did Edward catch you in bed?"

"STOP already! This…utter… fiction!" exclaimed Bella in exasperation. She feinted a look around the car. "I'm sorry, do we have an audience here?"

Tanya's face darkened. "Yes," she muttered. "There is always an audience." Again, Tanya glanced at the speedometer. No, it was the odometer. The _mileage_. Of course.

She was trying to outrun Edward's two mile mind-reading radius. _Edward was the audience_. Tanya's accusations were a façade, an attempt to convince Edward of an outrageous story. God!

Was he even in range? Or was he running in the opposite direction, dealing with an angry and regenerating vampire?

"And what about the man you love?" Bella asked vehemently, turning to face Tanya again. "YOU put him in danger. How do you know he's not dead? Don't you want to go back and check?"

"Edward's mind-reading makes him a reliable survivor. He is good in a fight. I'd say he was the least likely to die."

"Least likely, but certainly possible. A vegetarian, a newborn and a werewolf walk into a bar – _what did you think was going to happen next_?" Bella yelled. "Anyway, I wasn't talking about Edward!"

"I had to take a chance. I had no control over who was there, who wasn't."

"You left Edward's life to chance." Bella squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, her fury pinging inside of her. "And Sven? Do you care if he is alive or not? If Sven is not the man you love, then what is he to you?"

"He's not your concern."

"You've used him…to what purpose exactly?"

Tanya rolled her shoulders, in a shrug. "It wasn't intentional. Perhaps I called him 'mate' too soon. I was initially optimistic. I tried to make it work."

"But he's _just not Edward_, is that it?"

Tanya only sighed.

"Sven thinks he loves you."

"He DOES love me." Tanya's eyes blazed for a moment.

"Not wholly. Sven was willing to deceive you, so you wouldn't know he had fed off a human. That's not love!"

"Love." Tanya sneered. "What could _you_ know of it?"

"I know that you foster an obsession, based purely on sex. Kate, too! I saw it at work, on our construction foreman. It's no wonder your relationships with humans don't last!" For one inexplicable moment Bella felt the urge to enlighten Tanya, to explain why she was still alone after a thousand years. "I don't think you understand the mate bond—"

Tanya slammed her foot on the brake and Bella felt herself thrown against her seatbelt. Bella cried out in pain.

"How dare you," Tanya spat, turning in her seat. "You mere child! You stupid, naïve little girl. How dare you lecture me on the vampire mate bond!"

She pounded her fist on the dashboard and it cracked. "You just _think_ you've mated. Yes, yes, Edward seems to be in love." She waved her hand dismissively. "The truth is he doesn't know what it means either! He thinks you are the one because you provide the silence that gives his mind some peace. You're so _unworthy_" – she drew this word out in a low, bitter moan – "of his time, his mind, his capabilities! And you would've eventually proved it all on your own, without my help –"

"But you couldn't wait to see if you were wrong," interrupted Bella. "You didn't dare wait until I was a vampire, an eternal mate. So you thought Sven would succumb to his thirst and kill me? And Jacob would prevent Alice seeing it? Was that your plan?"

Tanya lips thinned into a grim line. "I find it best not to make plans. Unless I can find another fuckable werewolf to blind Alice."

A cell phone rang. Tanya's arm shot out again, this time slapping her hand over Bella's mouth. Bella's skull dug into the padding of the headrest.

"It's Edward," Tanya announced, glancing at the screen. She took a breath before hitting the button, as if she were centering herself.

"Darling," she answered. Bella heard her beloved's voice, hissing through the line.

8&8&8&

Once Edward heard the ignition of the SUV, he was over the hill in a flash, his awkward, squirming bundle balanced on his hip. He felt the stirring of minds behind him, along the highway, in the neighbourhood, but he ignored them. His destination was the Pack 'n Mail in a small-town strip mall in Edna, just five miles outside of Hanover. He must move quickly and dispatch the dangerous degenerate under his arm. First class mail to Alaska should do it. Then – then! - it would be time for Tanya to feel his wrath.

"God dammit," he roared, hearing his phone chime again with Alice's texts. "My hands are full." She was probably wracked with guilt, now that she could see again. Why oh WHY hadn't they considered the werewolf factor? No wonder Alice could see only blanks in Bella's afternoon. Edward should have brought Bella to the library with him; they would have faced Tanya together. Instead Bella witnessed a catalogue of horrors, including the death of a friend and Edward's participation in a dismemberment. Oh yeah, and her own life cast to the brink… "God DAMNIT," he yelled again, unable to check his fury.

He thought of Bella's face, white with nausea, distressed from grief and fear. Bella had handled herself well, authorizing an ethical and determined decision to spare Sven's life. Edward was proud of her – proud that she had held onto her human values, proud that she hadn't simply shrugged off responsibility and left it to Edward's cold judgment (which would have meant instant termination for the Norwegian). Life still held value in her eyes.

Edward came to a stop when he was just two miles from the little hamlet of Edna. "I won't kill him, Bella-sweet," he muttered, pausing in the thick of the woodland. "I'll just slow down his recovery." He tossed his bundle on the ground and unrolled the flailing, lethal fish that was Sven.

Sven blinked, still for an instant, then made a yelping grab for Edward's foot. Edward, anticipating his move, hopped over him. "Have you ever been to Alaska?" Edward asked, before taking Sven's head in his hands and twisting sharply. There was an audible crack.

The scream died on Sven's lips and the now-headless torso fell still again. You'd almost think his life was irretrievable; his eyes were vacant and his mouth slack. It would take at least a month to reform an entire body. Yes, it was better that Bella hadn't witnessed this. Edward marvelled for a moment that he didn't find it the least bit gruesome. It was the business of vampires.

Edward took out a Zippo lighter and set the body on fire. Edward tucked the head, harmless for now, under his arm and set off again through the trees. With his other hand he whipped out his phone, and found the number of the bitch that had plagued him for forty years.

"Tanya," he hissed, barely masking his temper. He would have to lure Tanya out of Hanover first, away from Bella.

"Darling." She sounded breathless.

"It's _Edward_, thank you. Did you find transportation?"

"Yes. Freja kindly volunteered her car."

"Good. I've got Sven with me. Meet me at the café next to the Pack 'n Mail, in the hamlet of Edna, east of Hanover. Can you get there in ten minutes?

"Hm, might be fifteen or twenty. I'm not familiar with the area."

"I say you are. You knew exactly where to park the Citroën. Meet me in ten. I'm ready to negotiate."

There was a moment of silence while she weighed his words. "Sounds promising, darling," she hummed. "See you soon."

Satisfied, he dialled Bella.

"Hellooooo, this is Bella's phone."

"Freja?" Oh, _what_ the fuck now? "Are you with Bella?"

"No," she slurred. "I picked up Bella's phone."

"Obviously!" he barked, impatient.

"I'm with this guy. He borrowed your swimming trunks. They're a little tight."

"Jesus, do you mean Jake?"

She held the phone away from her mouth. "Are you Jake or Jesus?"

"Uh, Jake. Jake Black." Edward heard in the background.

Christ, he was alive again. Incredible! "Aren't you with Tanya?"

"She and Bella took Jake's car, so we're chasing them to Parker Reservoir."

"WHAT?"

"It's like a James Bond thing, except in Volkswagens. With Jake, Jake Black," she said in a Sean Connery impression.

"Holy shit," cried Edward. "I'm in the wrong place – again!" He hung up and hurled his body in the other direction, toward Parker Reservoir, leaving Sven's head discarded on the forest floor.

His phone chimed with yet another text from Alice. This time he lifted his phone to his view while he ran. "Give me good news, Alice," he prayed.

_Bel and Tan in THE volkswagn then all goes blank again HELP HER. K8 & I r enroute. HURRY._

8&8&8&8&

"Sounds promising, darling," Tanya hummed, her expression a picture of confidence. Her hand, however, displayed a slight tremor. Perhaps she was more nervous than she let on.

"See you soon." Tanya hung up and removed her other hand from Bella's mouth. "I'm meeting Edward at a café in Edna," she said simply. She frowned at Bella. "But first there's YOU." She slammed her foot on the accelerator; Bella was thrown back into the old bucket seat.

"Where are you taking me?" Bella suddenly remembered she should be afraid. She held onto her neck, tender from Tanya's fist and the seatbelt chafing.

"I don't know," she snapped, wincing at the unholy noises the little engine was making. "No plans, remember?"

"Take me to Edna."

"Not on your life." Tanya smirked. "Edward and I have a private rendezvous. He's devastated and is leaving you. Isn't there a reservoir up this road?"

"I don't know." Bella gripped the armrest, staring at the road ahead as the Volkswagen gained speed. "I don't believe you. Take me to Edna. You're in deep trouble with the Cullens by now. Whatever the possibilities, Alice will have seen them all. Take me to Edna – or they will have their reveng-"

"No plans, no plans – keep it open –" Tanya muttered to herself, leaning forward, both hands gripping the wheel. "Perhaps you'll want to commit suicide, after the death of your lover and the betrayal of your fiancé. I did tried to stop you, but alas! Perhaps you'll grab the steering wheel and cause an accident. Edward will never know the difference." She spoke to herself rather than Bella. "No plans, NO PLANS…"

"It won't work! Don't you get it?" Bella felt oddly triumphant; he voice was clear and strong. "You'll never have him. Even if you kill me today and get away with it, he'll NEVER EVER want yo-."

"Give me a mere thirty minutes with his dick and he'll be mine forever," she hissed. Her eyes had darkened to black fire. "I'll get my sisters to hold him down. Thirty minutes on my lips, in my embrace, between my thighs. It's like _magic_."

"Dishonest magic. With limited tenure!" Bella crowed. "You wouldn't dare!"

"I've about had enough of you," Tanya seethed, her voice cracking again. "He was mine until the year you were born, do you understand? Alice told me – she told all of us – after a hunt in the spring of 1975. One day, the humans would develop interconnections through computers, and worldwide biometric records and digital surveillance that would make it impossible for vampires to hide. She said that there was a high probability Edward would rule the Volturi – and all vampires! Carlisle would negotiate the peace. How do you think Edward would get there? With a simpering, weak-willed, dullard at his side? NO! With me. Glamorous, astute, perspicacious. I suit the role, not you. ME."

"No," cried Bella. Her burst of courage left her as quickly as it came. Was Tanya telling yet another tale? "Edward wouldn't be happy ruling vampires."

"Because you have sidetracked him!" she yelled. "He would be a brilliant leader, resolute, legitimate, tactical – a pioneer in a whole new world of human-vampire alliance! YOU, however, have him ironing your clothes!"

"He seems to like ironing," said Bella feebly. She thought of Edward, handling Sven at the moment of decision. He was dispassionate, powerful – somehow both cruel and fair. He had offered Bella a share of responsibility, too. Edward could also be overprotective and uncommunicative – but only with Bella. Love, perhaps, clouded his better judgment. Yes, she supposed she could imagine him an effective leader. However, she couldn't imagine him happy too.

"The probability sank the year you were born and continued to be chaotic until you fucking moved to Forks," continued Tanya bitterly. "Then it disappeared entirely."

Bella shook her head, still incredulous. 'But…Alice has never mentioned this to me."

"She shouldn't have even mentioned it to Edward!" Tanya cried. "He was too young to grasp the idea of his own power. His potential. Her vision upset him badly. In time, he will come to see that it is the best course to take – for all vampires and humans."

"You mean it is the best course for _you_. Your love for him is not love at all – it's selfishness." Bella began to cry; she couldn't help it. Her poor Edward, at the mercy of this ruthless, self-serving vampire. Edward preferred a quiet life, with books and beautiful cars and hunting in the forest. Making love and making music. He was more professor than politician.

The reservoir came into view, fifty feet below the road. Bright blue water, pristine and beautiful. "No plan, no plan," Tanya chanted to herself, her eyes narrowing in concentration. The Rabbit's engine raced.

Bella swallowed and watched Tanya move her hand to the buckle of Bella's seatbelt. It sure looked like premeditation to Bella.

Then they simply left the road.

8&8&

She felt cold, so cold. She knew not to breathe, though the pain on her forehead was so sharp she wanted to gasp, to scream, to cry out. _Edward, Edward, Edward,_ she thought. _ I'm sorry I could not stop her. The Volturi can be yours, but only if you want it. _

Bella opened her eyes when she felt a tug at her waist. It was Jacob, bubbles rising out of his mouth. His eyes were wide, the whites reading grey-blue in the water. He was tugging on her belt buckle. She must already be dead. They were together in some sort of watery purgatory. Did this mean there was no heaven after all? Only a blue world of weightlessness?

She opened her mouth to greet him and the water came in, displacing air. Her body involuntarily began to panic. She reached for her buckle – alas, it was crushed together, and her seatbelt would not come out.

Jake was ripping the car apart now, trying to wrench the seat from the floor. She reached up to touch his face. "I'm sorry about Layla," she tried to say, but there was no air to say it. Black spots appeared in her vision and she thought for a moment that she saw Edward in the car too. How could so many fit into a Volkswagen? He was crying. Underwater. Was that possible? He put his cold, strong hands on her cheeks and bared his teeth.

8&8&8&

_Someone asked if I pictured a naked Taylor Lautner rising from the swimming pool last chapter. The answer is NO._


	34. Chapter 34: A Legend

_**RECAP:** Tanya and Bella are in Jacob's VW Rabbit, heading away from the house. Tanya tries to commit a spontaneous murder, so that Alice will not see it and might consider it an accident. It's not Tanya's lucky day, however, as Jake and Freja are in hot pursuit and Edward is streaking through the trees toward the reservoir. We last left Bella stuck in the submerged Rabbit, losing consciousness as Jake and Edward try to save her._

Efficiently Beta'd by Belledean

**Chapter 34: A Legend**

Bella's consciousness rose and fell over the hours. Or was it days? There was an idea that she had awakened to find Jacob's mouth on hers, the blue sky behind him, while Edward moaned with despair and Freja urged "C'mon" in the background.

Then there was a nurse, brisk and competent. "Do you feel nauseous?" she asked, her face close to Bella's ear. "You were in a car accident," and "Sorry, no family members are allowed in the recovery room."

When Bella asked "Am I a vampire yet?" the nurse chuckled and said "No, but you've had your spleen removed."

She heard noises sometimes. A metallic snap and ping and a little whoosh, in a repeated rhythm. Snap ping _whoosh_, snap ping _whoosh_.

Bella opened her eyes to see Carlisle, in a white coat. She must surely be dreaming. He put a little cylinder in her hand. "Press this when the pain becomes uncomfortable," he said gently. "It's a patient-controlled analgesic pump."

"Edward?" she croaked.

"He's here," said Carlisle, signing a chart. "He's arranging to get you home."

_Home?_ Home-Forks or Home-Balch-Road? She pressed the pump and watched Carlisle until blackness descended again.

Snap ping _whoosh_.

Later, she knew Edward had been there, because she could smell his lingering scent. She thought he had joined her in bed for a while. Another time his marble arms were around her, his cool face against her forehead. "Tell me, my Bella-sweet," he pleaded. "Tell me you're all right." She pressed the pump again and soon she was all right.

Sometimes she dreamt she that she was trying to convince them all of something, some nebulous idea that was just beyond her comprehension. She talked until her throat hurt but no one in the room seemed to _get it. _ "There, there" said Esme, stroking Bella's arm.

Snap ping _whoosh_. Snap ping _whoosh_. Someone paced in the room. The light changed – was it morning or evening? She could sense it through her eyelids.

"It's not your fault," Edward was saying softly to someone. "How could we have known the werewolf would be there? Or a second Volkswagen?"

"I didn't foresee a _drowning_," answered Alice, her voice full of regret.

"A _near-_drowning," corrected Edward.

The next time Bella opened her eyes, though, it was Emmett sitting beside her.

"Whoa. You're awake," he said, putting aside his iPad. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, like he was settling in to watch what she would do next.

"I'm at home." Bella managed to turn her head and observe that she was in the very room that had been destroyed by Jake and Sven. Except it was back to normal. Except she was propped in a hospital bed, instead of the bed with the Aston Martin seatbelt.

"Yeah," he replied cheerfully, gesturing at the walls. "Took a couple of days to put it back together. I had to rip up the carpet though. Lupine blood – what a godawful smell!"

Bella's mind leapt back to the nightmarish memory of Jake's death. She pressed the little cylinder pump, nestled in her palm. "And…Jakes' body?" She turned her head toward the French doors, out to the pool. The skimmer moved smoothly, robotically across clear water.

Emmett chuckled. "That smells pretty bad too."

"What?" She was having trouble forming her sentences. "Y-you haven't flown him home? To Billy?"

"Nah, he's still hanging around."

Bella imagined Jake on a meat hook, like in a butcher's refrigerator. She changed the subject. "Why isn't Edward in here with me?" A tear escaped down her cheek. The fact that he wasn't the first face she saw upon opening her eyes was a disappointment.

"He is, almost all the time. I guess you don't remember." Emmett frowned and reached forward with his giant mitt-like hand. He gently pried the cylinder pump from her hand. "He gets agitated. Esme sends him out; she doesn't think he's helping much." Emmett rubbed his hand over his chin. "Edward may be a skinny guy, but he's pretty scary when he's enraged." Emmett spoke with some admiration.

"He's skinny?" She turned her head toward the door. "I mean, he's enraged?" She yearned to see him, right _now_. Enraged or not.

"Off and on. Good thing this room is soundproof, or you'd hear him and Kate bitching at each other day and night." He sighed. "I like hiding in here, frankly. It's peaceful."

"Kate!" she exclaimed softly, wondering why so many were here.

"Just about everyone is here. Except Jasper. He couldn't take it. And Rose." Emmett sniggered. "She couldn't take Edward."

"Tanya, too?" Bella whispered, in horror. How could she have forgotten about Tanya?

Emmett squirmed in his chair, his eyes darting away. "Uh, yeah. She's here too. She's in…in the kitchen. With Kate. Don't worry, she's not gonna hurt you."

"Me? What about Edward_?"_ she shrieked. She started to push back the covers. "How long have I been out?"

"_Whoa,_ Bella, you can't just get up; you're attached to tubes and things." He simply laid his arm across her waist and that was it, she was pinned down. "Hey, hey, settle down—" he soothed, though he now looked a little panicked himself.

"Emmett _please_," she cried, beating at his steel beam of an arm. "I need to warn Edward!" The tears came faster now.

His expression read somewhere between pity and a reprimand, though he didn't move or speak until she stopped squirming.

"You gonna hold still?"

"You _gonna_ get Edward?" she shot back, a little more rudely than intended. She swiped angrily at her tears.

Emmett waited a beat before speaking. "The room may be soundproof, but don't forget: Edward can 'read' our conversation, you know." He tapped his head.

Bella sank back into her pillows, the fight leaving her. "Do you mean that he knows I'm awake but he doesn't want to come in? Why? What's happened?" She squeezed her eyes closed. "Tanya," she whispered in dread.

Emmett only shook his head. He put the cylinder back in her hand. "Have some sauce. "And a little faith," he muttered, as he went to the door.

A startling sound came pouring through the opening as soon as Emmet pulled on the doorknob. It was Kate, jabbering in angry French. Edward snarled something back at her before stepping through the door. Emmett slipped around him, palms up in the air as if claiming his innocence.

"That's IT!" declared Kate in a shrill octave. "I'm going to the Pack'n Mail!"

"You're not going ANYWHERE," Edward hissed back at her, before closing the door behind him.

He was instantly at her side. "Bella," he said breathlessly. He sank to the chair and took her hand in his and then pitched forward, so that his face was buried against her hip. "You sound blessedly coherent today."

"Edward," she said, starting to cry again, but this time because she was so happy to see his face at last. Or at least the top of his head. She dropped her pain relief pump and put her fingers into his silky hair. "What…where…" She didn't know where to begin. What had happened in the reservoir? Was Jake really dead and she had imagined him there? Was Tanya telling new tales that needed correction? _I didn't try to kill myself _and _Jake wasn't my lover,_ she wanted to say, but both statements seemed too ridiculous to articulate.

"I'm so sorry," he moaned into the bedclothes.

"I love you." It was the best response. Any further conversation required too much energy.

"Thank God," he whispered, and he pressed her hand to his cheek.

With her other hand, Bella stroked his hair, because he seemed to need comforting, rather than the other way around. She smiled and closed her eyes again.

8&8&

She began to notice a dull craving, a need for something. It surely wasn't blood. Then an ache or two in her limbs told her that still, she wasn't a vampire. Lastly she noticed the cylinder was no longer in her hand.

Where was it?

"They took it away," answered Freja.

"Oh," said Bella, opening her eyes. "I didn't realize I had spoken aloud."

Freja smiled. She was sitting in the bedside chair with her one knee drawn up to her chest and a novel in her hand; she looked entirely clear-eyed and sober. It was mid-morning, Bella guessed, a beautiful, sunny day. The pool water sparkled, casting reflections against the wall.

"Well, you were always high," explained Freja.

"I was?"

"The narcotics," said Freja a little louder, making a 'crazy' looping motion with one finger around her ear, "made you say weird things all the time, about vampires and 'Tanya's trap', and some Italian soccer team. The Vultures. You tried to tell you dad about them on the phone. It was funny."

"OH." The Volturi.

"Anyway, we didn't know if your rantings were due to your brain misfiring or to the painkillers. Edward didn't want to wean you off it, because, like," she chuckled, "the guy doesn't want you to feel even _one tiny instance of pain, _but you were practically an addict, so—"

"Wait…_brain misfiring_?"

Freja gave a slow, serious nod. "You were under water for over four minutes and that's when brain damage starts to set in…so yeah. And Edward, you know, thinks he can fix everything and he's been waiting for some sign that you are all there. Like he could DO something about it! And Jake was all _oh you don't have her permission for the change _–"

"Jake's alive after all?" Bella shook her head in amazement. She would never underestimate werewolves' healing power again.

"Uh yeah, of course." Freja looked at Bella with some surprise. "He's here, acting all sheepish and guilty whenever he comes in this room, like he's really embarrassed. He and I go hang out at campus, where 'there are no prying ears', he says. He's turned out to be really mature, for a younger guy."

Bella nodded. "He can be." She took a breath. "And Edward?"

"Yeah, he's around, all angry and practically flagellating himself. I've met, like ALL the Cullens now," she said slowly, her eyes widening.

"Yes, they are extraordinary," said Bella with a little impatience. She wanted to know about _Edward_.

"I know, right? It verges on weird." Freja gave an involuntary shudder. "Esme's really nice. Kate left, thank baby Jesus. Alice took her to New York on a shopping trip, though I could tell she didn't want to go. Alice was really into taking care of you, painting your nails and shit."

"Have I been out a long time?" Bella asked, touching the place where her IV was taped on her beautifully manicured hand. She inspected her medical paraphernalia with some trepidation. Feeding tube, IV. She looked under the covers: a bandage – for her spleen removal incision, she supposed. Catheter, ugh. She had all her limbs at least, though they were covered in ugly, yellowing bruises.

Freja nodded. "Almost two weeks. You'll have to re-take your poetry exam."

Bella clapped her hand to her mouth. "Poetry exam? OH! I forgot all about exams." Bella suddenly noticed her writing hand was covered by a cast.

"Is Edward here?" she said at last. "I mean, right now?"

"He's gone to the store. He's getting some stuff for a trip to Alaska, apparently."

"A-Alaska?" started Bella, trying to sit up. "WHY?"

"I know, right? Bizarre. Seems to be some silent, furious debate about it between him and the gorgeous Carlisle Cullen, M.D."

"Denali Alaska," cried Bella. "I'm too late. She's taken him. And I've slept through it all." Bella put her face over her hands and the pain throbbed again throughout her body, but mostly in her heart. "I need to call Alice. I need to…oh God, what can I do?"

"'M'kay, I have NO idea what you're talking about."

"Don't you see, she must have done it while I was asleep!"

Edward had come to her bed and said _I'm so sorry_. Did that really mean 'goodbye'?" _Thirty minutes with his_ _dick and he'll be mine forever, _Tanya had boasted. Bella shook her head. There must be some other explanation for a journey to Alaska. "Where is Tanya now?" she asked, twisting her fingers together.

"Tanya?" Freja's eyes widened. "I haven't seen her since…since…_that day_."

"The day of my accident?"

"I was there, you know."

Bella tried to calm her racing heart. She was being unreasonable. "Tell me. Tell me what happened."

Freja's voice dropped. "I was…I was not sober that day." Her jaw tightened. "I am now though."

"I know," said Bella gently, reaching out for Freja's hand. "It's okay."

"I will tell you what I saw." She slipped her fingers into Bella's and raised her eyes. "It will be obvious to you what was real and what wasn't."

"Unabridged please," requested Bella. "Tell me everything."

8&8&8&

The sound of metal crunching, in such an idyllic New England scene, was a violent and horrifying noise. Freja and Jake both yelled and lurched forward in their seats, helpless to do anything. As they pulled to a stop, they could only watch as the Rabbit hit the rocks, flipped onto its roof and hit again, before sliding into the water.

"It has a roll bar. _It has a roll bar!" _ Jake said it like a prayer. Then suddenly he had left the car and was leaping down the same bank. He disappeared into the water.

"OH GOD," said Freja, wrenching herself from the car. She staggered around it, her sense of balance reeling left and right. She clutched her flask of vodka to her chest.

She had thought Jake was fast, but nothing prepared her for the blur that was Edward Cullen, streaking out of absolutely nowhere. He was across the road and launched himself off the rocks in a swan dive of perfection, like an Olympic champion.

"NO!" shrieked Freja, as she knew he wouldn't make the water, just as the Rabbit hadn't made it without first smashing onto the rocks. By some weird miracle of God, he simply rolled forward in a somersault on an intermediate ledge and took a second dive – this time knifing neatly into the water.

"O-kay," she whimpered, hardly believing her eyes. "You go right ahead."

Freja waited in horror, leaning back against the car for support. She waited and waited; all was silent, no new cars came down the road that she could flag for help. Surely they must all be DEAD DEAD DEAD.

A figure emerged on the far side of the reservoir. It was Tanya! Freja blinked and Tanya was gone again, like she had merged into the woods behind her. Freja wrenched her eyes back to the blue, undisturbed expanse of water, where Bella and Edward and _Jake, Jake Black_ were submerged below. Now _where_ was the spot they had gone in?

So much time had passed now that Freja began to wonder if she had hallucinated all of it. The Native American man-boy in small shorts with his cute Volkswagen might have just been a wishful fantasy of some kind; the busty blonde in her car a trick of the mind; her friends under the water an alcohol-induced nightmare.

She balanced her flask on the hood, then pulled her phone out of her pocket and stared at it. She wouldn't even be able to tell the police where to look. She thought of Bella chuckling and reading aloud last semester from Huckleberry Finn, the part where they dragged the Mississippi River for the boys' bodies. She must help her friend. _Nine_, she dialled. _One_...

Then Edward burst from the surface and spat out something that looked like a seatbelt. In a moment he was _running _up the nearly vertical slope, carrying Bella in his arms. He was there in an impossibly short amount of time, and laid Bella, blue-tinged and bleeding from the head, on the ground next to Freja's car. Freja cried out and sank to her knees, in both relief and the unbearable anxiety of what would happen next.

.

He was efficiently preparing her for CPR, clearing her mouth, calling _Bella, B_,,B _ella can you hear me_?" when suddenly he jerked upright. "My mouthguard!" He patted his soaked shirt pockets. "I must have lost it in the water! JACOB BLACK GET OVER HERE," he bayed, his voice breaking on the last syllable.

Freja would never have imagined that Edward, always so cocksure and patronizingly polite, could become so unhinged. Forgetting this mouthguard thing seems to be his undoing. His golden eyes had turn inexplicably black, and he pulled on sopping hair and made desperate noises that she had only heard in PBS animal documentaries. He hovered, straightening Bella's clothing and aligning her limbs with a visible tremor in his hands. "JAAKE!" he bellowed.

Jake appeared at the edge of road, wheezing and bent half over. Water dripped off his brown skin. "Unlike you," he coughed, "I need air."

"NOW," cried Edward. "Mouth to mouth."

Freja crawled toward them, not trusting her feet. Edward whipped his head around and stared at Freja for a moment, and seemed to extend the same request to her.

"I don't know how to do it," she whispered. "Why don't you do it?"

"My teeth, my damnable teeth," he answered shortly.

"Lay-la," said Jake between heaves of oxygen.

"_Fuck _Layla. The minutes are passing, Bella is dying." Edward lifted his head and seemed to regain control of himself. "Help me, goddamnit. Help the friend you love."

"LAYLA." Jake pointed into the trees behind them, in the slow, trance-like manner of a film zombie. Freja couldn't see anything at all. Did he mean _Tanya_?

"I'll change Bella, I swear it!" Edward declared to the sky. "Right here and now."

Jake snapped to attention. "Without her permission? In front of her friend?" He gestured at Freja. "You can't do that!"

"You have five seconds to decide." Edward put his hand behind Bella's neck, lifting her chin.

"_Four_," he said, stroking her wet-plastered hair lovingly from her face. "_Three_ – my darling, dearest girl." He kissed her forehead. He turned her head to the side and ran his fingers down her pale neck.

"WAIT." Tanya emerged from the trees, fixing a glare of utmost loathing upon Bella. "Help him, Jake. Do it."

Jake fell obediently onto his knees. The two young men worked together, Edward counting aloud and pressing his hands on Bella's chest while Jake provided the air.

Bella was lifeless as a rag doll. Edward began to moan out promises, pleas, bargains with God, all in time to the rhythm of his hands.

Freja felt, rather than heard, Tanya come closer behind them.

"C'mon Bella," said Freja. "C'monnnnn." She crawled closer, so that she was almost beside Edward. Freja touched Bella's leg, as if she could send some life force back into her through her hand.

Edward jerked his head almost imperceptibly, while Jake was having his turn. "Don't you _dare_ distract us," he snarled. Freja froze, wondering which one of them he was addressing, but she didn't move her hand.

The next line he spoke seemed to come from another creature; so venomous, so rumbling was the quality of his voice: "Not another lie, from your mouth nor your mind!" he spat.

In a single fluid move, like in one of those disturbing _Kill Bill_ films, Edward rose, twirling on the ball of his foot, and swung his leg right over Freja's head.

She had no time to flinch or even close her eyes, and so she saw it, bouncing across the road.

Tanya's head.

Freja fainted cold.

&8&8

Edward threw his supplies in the trunk of the Vanquish and paused. He saw Bella, awake and conversing, through Freja's mind. He flew into the house.

"Hello?" he said, at the bedroom door. "May I come in?"

"Edward," said Bella, startled. She pierced him with her eyes for a moment, before redirecting them to her hands.

"She's not brain-damaged," said Freja matter-of-factly, rising from her chair. "So you can stop beating yourself up."

"Huh. You can go now," said Edward in a severe tone. "Take the dog for a walk or something."

Freja snorted. "That joke doesn't make_ any_ sense, but I'll see if Jake wants a latte." On her way out, though, she touched her finger to his arm. She had been irrationally kind towards him since the accident. And completely sober. He closed the door behind her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, letting his hands drop to his sides. "Are you in pain?"

She shrugged. "A little. My head feels clearer though."

He wanted to cry out with relief. She _did _sound herself again; the narcotics had perhaps masked her conscious recovery. He should have listened to Carlisle and taken her off the pain killers a week ago.

"I am so glad to hear it." He swallowed, unnecessarily, still standing by the door.

"Y-you're going to Alaska?" Her brows were knit together. He had known this would hurt and bewilder her; some part of him had half-hoped she would not even be cognizant of his departure.

"Yes," he said in a rush. "I wanted to be here, to be beside you during your recovery, but there is a…a sort of ticking time bomb waiting for me there." He paused, wondering how plausible he sounded. "I want to diffuse it. No, eliminate it."

"You mean Tanya." Her eyes darted left and right, trying to make sense of his words.

He nodded. "I should explain."

"You'd better," she said fiercely, raising her eyes to him.

This show of energy was so encouraging that he had to suppress a mile. She had appeared so small and fragile the last two weeks in the hospital bed, her fine skin cut and bruised, her sweet face screwed up with some inner torment, physical or psychological. He had berated himself, as he was wont to do, for ever choosing, entrapping, and engaging such a delicate, precious human creature.

"Freja said you knocked Tanya's head off, right there on the roadside," she stated baldly, when he didn't answer.

He crossed the room at last to her bedside, but did not touch her. "It was an impulsive act." His nostrils flared with remembered anger. "She made an unfortunate remark and I…uh, _replied_ with violence. I must also confess that I set Tanya's body on fire."

Bella's mouth dropped open. "You did?"

"Yes, in the middle of CPR compression cycles. I didn't miss a beat. Fortunately, Freja was drunk during the former and unconscious during the latter."

"So…isn't Tanya dead now? _Gone_, I mean?"

"No. Things happened very fast then. You began to breathe again; Jake attacked me and took my lighter; Alice and Kate arrived. I was so grateful that you were still alive that I didn't pay any attention. It wasn't until we got you to the hospital, while you were in surgery, that I noticed the rounded bulge in Kate's enormous handbag, and Tanya's scent still in the air."

Bella whispered: "The severed head."

"Are you sufficiently repulsed yet?" he asked quietly.

She ignored this question. "Why do you have to go to Alaska?"

He frowned and pulled out the Zippo lighter, holding it almost reverently.

Snap ping _whoosh_. He made a motion, like a party trick, where he flipped it over and flicked on the flame, then closed it. Snap, ping, _whoosh_.

He spoke in a formal, bitter tone, all the while flicking the lighter. "I was unable to reacquire the head and finish her destruction. Kate packed it in a football helmet box, so Freja wouldn't see it, and guarded it in the kitchen. Day and night. Jake backed her up and, but then slowly – over the last fourteen days – he seemed to emerge from his so-called 'imprinting'. It had been Tanya's gift, nothing more. He is now nursing his wounded dignity with the sympathy of our friend Freja."

"I'm relieved."

Edward gave a cursory nod of agreement and continued: "Kate wanted to mail the head back to their house in Denali, as it wouldn't reform a body for another three weeks or so. She thought I wouldn't chase down a postal truck. I monitored her thoughts and physically attacked Kate every time she tried to leave the house with the head."

"You attacked Kate?" Bella couldn't imagine this.

Edward shrugged. "_Restrained_ her. A week of tricks, infighting, and attempts at 'bait and switch' ensued, on both sides. Kate is craftier than she appears." He put the lighter in his pocket and reached out for B ella's fingers. "All the while I wanted nothing more than to sit quietly with you and facilitate your recovery."

She grabbed hold of his hand, intertwining her small, warm fingers with his cold ones and hung on for dear life. His brow smoothed a little at this. He continued: "Two days ago, I was conducting my goading threat with the lighter – and the fuel ran out. Kate looked up at me and saw her opportunity. She dashed for the door and this time it was _Carlisle_ who restrained me."

"Oh?"

"He'd had enough of my anger and my pre-meditation."

"_Oh_. I see." Premeditated murder. She stared up at her fiancé, at the stiff determination in his shoulders and the conflict on his face. She felt she could relate entirely. Never before had she wished for the death of another person, not even Victoria. She tried to see it from Carlisle's point of view. It was not easy.

"I will follow through on my intentions," he declared darkly, gripping her hand. "I'm driving to Alaska – this much I promised Carlisle – so that I have time to contemplate my actions and make a level-headed decision, rather than commit a crime of rage that I'd later regret. And you can recover here under the protection and care of Emmett, Carlisle and Esme. Alice will return when she has occupied Kate long enough for me to complete my task."

"No, no," protested Bella. "Take me with you."

He smiled. "No way, my fierce little human mate."

"Won't Sven try and stop you? Won't Tanya have a body by then?" Bella grabbed his forearm and tried to shake it. "Tanya will do her best to seduce you, Edward; it's her plan to bind you to her and join the Volturi as a leader of vampires; you can't fall for her tricks; I NEED TO COME WITH YOU!"

He drew back, raising his eyebrows. "That is a now-defunct prediction."

"She'll do anything to achieve it."

He stared down at her red-rimmed eyes, her still-bruised skin and thin cheeks. "I won't succeed if I have you with me," he said softly.

"Because you'll have to protect me," she stated bitterly.

"No," he replied, his mouth set in a grim line. "Because I must keep myself hardened to the task. You are..." His voice faltered, when he touched his finger to her cheek. "You are all that is sweetness and light. You will weaken me."

"You're not the monster you think yourself to be," she said angrily.

"See?" His eyes crinkled at the corner. "Already you're undermining my resolve." He shook his head. "You'll just have to have believe in my fidelity."

"You wouldn't be able to help it, she's a master of her gift, don't you see? _Please_!" She threw her arms around his waist. "Please," she pleaded. "Don't go alone."

"Wait for me, darling." He stroked her hair while she cried quietly into his shirt. "Get better and stronger. I will be back."

He was resolute; there would be no persuading him.

"When are you leaving?" she asked, bereft.

"Any moment now. The window of opportunity is narrow."

"No—please," she moaned, trying one last time. Though clear of drugs, her mind bordered on hysteria. It would be the last time she held him, she felt sure. "Come into bed with me."

"_Bella_," he whispered, meaning 'no'.

"Come into bed with me!" she wept, barely getting out the words. "Just for a minute. I want to feel you, to know you're mine, at least today, at this moment."

"I am yours, now and always." He stepped over to the curtains, closing them across the French doors and shrouding the room in darkness. Bella heard the lock of the bedroom door and the rustle of his clothing.

"I'm cold," he reminded her ruefully, his voice now by her bedside, "and you are very frail."

"Get in," she demanded tearfully, opening the bedcovers. He slipped in alongside her, barely fitting in the hospital bed. Constrained as she was by her tubes (and mortified by the presence of a catheter) she rolled to her side and moved her hands slowly over the sculpture that was his perfect body. She hummed a noise of satisfaction when she felt he was naked. The swell of butt cheek, the arch of back, the ripple and promontory of shoulder blade – ah, her favourite, the swoop of neck to shoulder and bicep! She claimed them with a pass of her palm.

"To the d_epth_ and _breadth_ and _height_ m_y soul_ can reach," she quoted, blindly touching his nose, his cheeks, his lips. She put her face against his chest and expelled a breath of exhaustion, both emotional and physical. Then she was asleep.

8&8&8&

Her figure was classical perfection, her naked skin was unblemished marble, sparkling in the sunlight. He had brought her to this high meadow, a few miles from the lodge. She lay back among wildflowers, blooming madly during their short season of warmth in the upper latitudes of this earth.

Her appearance did not in any way move him.

He stood over her and reached into her mind. Jumbled images and uncontrollable thoughts raced there and he sought some structure or intention, in an attempt to pinpoint the moment she would pass into consciousness. He wanted her to _know_.

He had deliberated and debated himself and the doctrine of Carlisle the entire journey (accomplished in admirable time, thanks to the engineers of Aston Martin) and had come to his conclusion with confidence, though without – already – some regret.

Edward had killed Sven upon his arrival. Whatever his promise to Bella, Sven would have served as a lethal obstacle to Edward's real goal. Alice had warned him of the possibilities, just before Edward passed out of cell phone range in the northern suburbs of Anchorage.

It had been easy; Sven, just awakened, expected no one and was dwelling on his humiliation at finding himself naked on an unfamiliar garage floor with a busted box on his head and a "Since you weren't home" notice from the US postal service. He did not hear Edward's approach and never even saw Edward's face. It took a single snap at the neck.

Edward's trusty Zippo lighter, full of fluid again, flared to life and finished the job in the compost pile next the lodge. _I'm sorry, Bella. My first broken promise_. He did not apologize to God. He felt it was too late now for redemption. He had lost his ticket to heaven – one he had briefly reacquired with Bella's love - somewhere in southern Canada, when he had made the decision. He would lose Carlisle's friendship next and perhaps the love of his wonderful, his innocent, his dearest mate. It had to be done.

Now, he stood above Tanya, as he had for the last thirty-three hours, vampire-still with a 25-foot titanium toggling harpoon in his hand. Waiting.

Her sense of smell approached steadily toward lucidity, and she smelled him before she opened her eyes. At the moment when scent molecules became electrical brain signals, he plunged the harpoon into her body, between her silent heart and her spine, just as her eyes flew open.

"Edw—"

The tip sank satisfyingly into the spongy alpine soil beneath her, effectively pinning her like a butterfly. Her hands gripped the shaft, where it entered her chest.

"What are you doing?" She was in pain, that was clear.

He stepped over her, so that one foot was on either side of her hips, and kept the pressure up. If she dislodged the harpoon from the soil, he would have a fight on his hands.

"I wanted you to know who ended your existence."

Her eyes blazed with astonishment. "How _dare_ you even consider it," she rasped. "I am over one thousand years old. THE succubus. An icon. A legend. The Volturi would bring you to reckoning; they would regard it as a crime."

"There are two others still." He sank the shaft another inch into the ground.

She tried to grip it, but found it greased with some sort of oil. "There have always been THREE. The Volturi rely on legend and historical precedence for their legitimacy," she continued, her thoughts roiling with surprise and indignation, more than fear. The pain overlaid all.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps I will create legends myself," he bowed his head mockingly "and initiate a path to vampire rule, just as you have desired."

Fury blazed from her eyes. "We are meant to conquer the Volturi together – Alice has foreseen it!"

"Had. _Had_ foreseen it. I will leave your ashes here, and this beautifully designed and completely illegal whale harpoon, stuck deep in the soil, to mark the place of an icon's demise. _No one_ will threaten my mate and live to talk about it."

"Your mate," she said coolly, staring up at him with a raised brow. "Your mate is nothing like you. She is a poor match. You will soon be bored – disdainful eventually – of her phlegmatic, pedestrian _decency_." She gave a tight laugh of disdain. "Here you are, killing me in cold blood. You are no Carlisle Cullen, you are no saint! Now you are my equal in selfishness, in duplicity."

"I won't deny it," he said soberly.

"You will lose her if you murder me. Your own guilt will drive it."

He did not answer, for he felt a kernel of truth in this.

"You belong with me, your equal in all things." Her voice sank to a melodramatic octave and she blinked in imitation of tears. "I would not wish any companion in the world but you."

He did not acknowledge the Shakespearean quote. "Half-truths and lies, Tanya. I am here because I can only ensure Bella's safety with your death."

"Not so, not so," she cried passionately. "Join up with me, and I will have no motivation to harm her. She will live, and I swear to leave her alone." A gleam appeared in her eye.

_Treasure me, pleasure me_. _Hold me, mold me. _"I swear it Edward," she said again. "My darling."

He was so focused on the pressure and stability of his harpoon, as well as the mental anticipation of any surprise moves, that Tanya's 'gift' - unreadable through her mind – took him by surprise.

_Capture me, enrapture me. Devastate me, subjugate me..._

_No._

A second distraction appeared on his two mile radar, at the foothills of the mountain, just as Tanya ratcheted up her gift a notch. Someone was approaching and closing in fast.

Now it wasn't just words, it was images, it was scents, it was lust and sounds and feelings: full on, all guns blazing, every thought in Tanya's conscious and subconscious arsenal. There were no crass 'fucks' in her assault this time. Forty years after her 'fuckity fucks' she knew him now and tailored her attack to his psyche. Shakespeare ran at top speed. A sublime, elemental combination of love and lust was promised him, he would be lifted to heights he had never experienced, he would share joy and release, and he would know a bone-deep devotion until the end of time.

Her beautiful limbs slithered in the grass; she tilted her round hips and managed to arch her back in a pose of seduction, somehow both plaintive and prurient, earnest and pleading. And grotesque, with a pole piercing her naked chest. She raised one knee to caress the back of his calf.

It was beyond words or language, now, it was sensation, pure and beautiful_. _His eyes rolled back in his head and his world up ended itself. He felt himself sag against the harpoon but could do nothing about it. _Bella Bella Bella… Bellabellabella_. He gripped the harpoon as if it were his connection to Bella.

"Soră." One sister greeted another.

Somewhere in a small corner of his mind he saw Irina approach, slow down and finally walk at ease up through the wildflowers. "Edward," she purred, coming to a stop beside him. She brushed a single finger over his cheek. "Such a fool. You should have killed Tanya when you had the chance. Were you being honorable, refusing to kill an unconscious being? Or proud—showing her who wins?"

"Stop chatting and get this weapon out of me," Tanya wheezed in Russian, her fury barely restrained.

Irina didn't respond, but took the opportunity to touch his face, his hair. "Haven't you wondered, Edward," she said in a stage whisper at his ear, "how we succubi have managed to survive for so long? Did you underestimate the power of our gifts? A nudge near death's doorstep will unleash them. No man can resist."

_Bellabellabella_.

"IRINA. I've got a 20 foot harpoon in my chest and _it's still there_. You'll have to break it. I can't get any leverage."

"A harpoon," chuckled Irina, still addressing Edward. "Clever young man. But_ this_!" She slithered her hand into the front pocket of his jeans and took out his Zippo lighter. "This is your real weapon."

"Excuse me, is there a problem here?" said Tanya sarcastically. "I want to fuck him while he's still enraptured. And I want you to film it on your iPhone. We'll send it to the girl. AS SOON AS you remove this goddamn stick."

_Bellabellabella_. His chest rose and fell violently, though he could not move.

"I don't think you have him,_ljubzen_." Irina stood there, arms folded. "He won't stop saying her name. And he has no erection."

"I do have him, _lovey_," Tanya insisted through her teeth, now tugging on the pole itself. "He's a man, isn't he? I'll have him begging for it within the hour."

_Bellabellabella_.

"He's not just any man, though." Irina cocked her head, studying him. "He's Edward. And he is truly in love. Anyway, I won't abet a rape."

"Enough of this!" Tanya hissed. "You're starting to sound like Kate."

"Edward has been good to me," continued Irina soberly. "He respects my right to make choices. I can't say the same of you." She turned her head slowly, to stare down at her sister on the ground.

Tanya stopped her struggles and stared at the open lighter in her sister's hand. "WHAT are you doing?"

Irina flicked the thumbwheel and the whoosh of the fuel came to light. "I've endured your power plays and your arbitrary 'causes' for too many centuries, Tanya. It always comes down to your ego. Your concept of support and protection is ultimately self-serving – perverse at times! You never take into account my wishes, nor Kate's. You left me to be plucked apart in more than one century."

Tanya was still now, her mouth open in surprise. "Please forgive me for my past transgressions," said Tanya rapidly. "Perhaps I was not fully appreciative of your loyalty. Tell me, sister, what can I give you now?"

Irina's lips lifted in a cruel smile.

"Head of coven?" offered Tanya. "Permission to drink from humans again? Edward?"

"Not my type."

"Some other young man? A position with the Volturi? Tell me – anything, it's yours."

"I want what I've wanted for centuries: freedom," said Irina wistfully, flipping the lid closed, and then flipping it open again and flicking the wheel. "I want it more than your protection, more than your companionship. Kate told me your head would be here; it is long over due that I made this decision. I came to destroy it."

Tanya's breath came out in a shaky gasp. "Sorocide?" she hissed. "Your own sister?"

Irina looked over at Edward, his mouth still moving: _Bellabellabella_. "We're not blood sisters, are we? You've always known it."

"Yes, _fine,_ it's true," said Tanya, dropping the obsequious act. She made a half-strangled noise of derision. "Our sire said that you're just a stupid peasant-whore from Krasnoyarsk; I am practically an aristocrat!"

"Whatever, bitch."

Tanya tugged desperately now, but the harpoon was stuck fast. She jerked her knee against Edward's legs but he was an immovable statue by her own gift. Irina closed the lighter and tested Edward's grip on the harpoon. It was like iron.

Tanya began to buck and shriek in a frenzy, but she was unable to move the harpoon.

"Edward has opted for a more majestic end for a legendary Succubus," said Irina calmly, indicating the beautiful mountain scenery around them. "I was going to put you in the compost pile, with Sven."

Snap ping _whoosh_.

"NO no no," screamed Tanya, her voice rising to a terrified pitch.

"Goodbye, sister. We won't meet again."

&8&8

_Bellabellabella_, said an insistent part of his mind. _Bellabellabella_ _her face her voice her touch her smile her love... _ Another deluge of persuastion came, a veritable tsunami, telling him to eliminate the threat to his _most exalted true love_ who lay on the ground with a pole in her chest. Irina was going to kill his _most exalted true love_, this was clear, using his Zippo lighter and Edward was supposed to do something about it.

_Bellabellabella_ said his mind. _Let go Edward or you'll burn too! _shouted Irina's voice at his ear. Able to move at last, he turned his head to gaze upon Irina. _LET GO! _she yelled.

He made his decision.

8&8&8&

I swear the next chapter won't take long AT ALL. We're almost done. A happy ending? Ah, um...


	35. Chapter 35: Reconciled

**So, will sometimes take my Word doc and DO FUNNY THINGS TO IT. So the odd typo and extra spaces are not always my errors. Also, sometimes I make errors when making my beta's suggested corrections. Lordy.**

**Thanks to Antebellum and Belledean for their comments and eagle-eyed beta skills. Any errors are mine, and are also likely, as I rearranged the last part just before posting!**

**Chapter 35: Reconciled**

"I'd like to speak to Carlisle alone. Please." Bella stood holding onto a kitchen chair. "I-if it's convenient."

Esme blinked. "Of course, dear. I'll just lower this to a simmer." She was making a vegetable broth, though Bella couldn't manage to eat much of anything since Edward's departure.

"Uh, sure, I could use a quickie hunt," said Emmett, nodding toward the woods behind the house. "Care to join me, Esme?" He mustered a smile. There had been few smiles of late between any of them.

It had been three days since they had lost contact with Edward. Alice had reported the possibilities narrowing and therefore it was likely to happen today. Whatever 'it' was. As Alice was still with Kate, distracting her and deceiving her about Edward's whereabouts, she could hardly say much over the phone. _Outlook favorable_, she had texted Bella on the sly.

Bella watched until Emmett and Esme disappeared through the trees. Carlisle waited patiently, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. He wore his expression that Bella had come to call his 'doctor face'. He was not expecting her words, she predicted.

"Carlisle," she began.

"What can I do for you, Bella?"

She lowered herself into a kitchen chair. "I appreciate all you have done for me. Flying out from Forks, probably taking vacation time from the hospital."

"We care very much about you."

Bella swallowed and took a breath of courage. "Thank you. It's mutual. However, I am going to have to ask you to leave."

There was a moment of silence. "May I ask why?"

"Yes. I'm upset with you." She touched her engagement ring absently. "You see, Edward loves you very much. He respects you and tries really hard to abide by your philosophy; he looks up to you in every decision. This time, though, your objections to his...um, _plans_, could have only undermined his resolve."

"I did not try to influence his decision; I only asked him to consider it thoroughly before acting."

She jerked her head up. "What is there to consider? Tanya has proven herself a threat. She tried to kill me and no human court can force her to pay restitution to society… to me. She will not stop until she has Edward as her mate, and she'll ignore her own 'no-harm-to-humans' policy to acquire him. You would do the same to keep Esme alive, I know it!" Bella's voice had risen in volume, but she tried to remain still, almost mimicking Carlisle's calm.

"Agreed." He did not try to soothe her. He next spoke to her, perhaps for the first time, as if she were an adult. "There is a difference, however, between killing an enemy who is attacking your mate and _hunting_ _down an enemy whom you anticipate _will eventually kill your mate. One is defence and the other is pre-meditated, with the presumption of preventing an event that has not yet occurred. One is clearly justified and the other full of fallacies, a grey area. Edward has been through this before."

"Not on behalf of a mate!"

"No, but on behalf of society. When he emerged from his vigilante years, he was full of regret and self-loathing for a very long time. I would not wish that burden of guilt on him again – or on you. He was not easy to live with; he could drive you away with it."

"He wouldn't," she declared indignantly. "I'm in it for the long haul!"

"I am glad to hear it," he said, smiling. Just like that, he was back in parent mode.

She shook her head, her anger rising. "You've put him in danger, Carlisle, by planting a nugget of doubt in his mind. Tanyais vicious and will play on any weakness. Asking Edward to drive instead of fly was the first mistake. She will have her body back; Sven will be there too. They might kill him, and if they don't, she might…" Bella did not want to speak of her other worry; Carlisle would dismiss it instantly. Indeed, Emmett seemed a little fed up with her fear – discussed only when the 'parents' weren't around – that Tanya would seduce Edward. Apparently Emmett had never experienced 'the voice', the subliminal weapon of succubi.

"I consulted with Alice," said Carlisle firmly. "The delay did not alter the probability of outcomes."

"I think your advice weakened him. A moment's hesitation might be fatal. He needed your support and you only gave him guilt."

Carlisle regarded her for a very long thirty seconds. Bella did not falter but met his gaze evenly.

"There is merit in your argument," he said at last, his blonde brows furrowing.

"Listen," she said, more apologetic in tone now, "I'm on the road to recovery. I'm going to wait for Edward here and I'd prefer to wait alone."

"Ah, but Bella—"

"This is Edward's house. And my house. Not the Cullen Coven house. If you will forgive my rudeness, I really just want to be alone."

Carlisle frowned and gave a little bow of his head. "Very well then. I would only ask that you check in with Alice once a day and follow up on your checkups at the hospital. Living without a spleen means that your immune system is weakened; you must be vigilant. Edward would not forgive me if we neglected your health prematurely."

"I will," she agreed readily. There, she had said it all. And now they would all go. Freja had left three days ago in her Volkswagen for Michigan, with the promise to take Jake as far west as she could get him. Emmett had put the Queen-size bed back in the bedroom, Esme had topped up the groceries, and the cars were full of gas. This included the despised vintage Citroën which now sat behind the garage under a tarp.

Bella would prefer to endure the wait alone. She craved Edward or solitude. For now, she could only have one.

8&8&8

The next few days seemed to exist in a bubble of silence. Bella didn't speak to anyone; she didn't play the radio or listen her iPod. As promised, she texted Alice and Esme once a day to say she was on the mend. She emailed her dad satisfactorily and so he didn't call. She slept a little, she showered, she ate a little. She even ventured a prayer or two for Edward's safe return. But mostly she waited, listening for her phone to ring.

Many times she poured through their most recent text exchanges, conducted on his drive up to Denali, now over a week old. They were the last words she had from him:

_Ohio. Passed our Wagon Wheel Motel . Missing you every moment. Love you, E_

-Out of bed now, no tubes. Drive carefully. I am with you all the way. All my love, B

_GOOD. Canadian Border. Vanquish superb. Get better, be strong. Love, E_

-You can do this. I believe in you. Forever, B

_Edmonton, Alberta. Alice says no texting while driving 120mph_. _Love, E_

-Understood. I believe in you. I love you. B

_Yukon next. Signal spotty untl Anchorage._

-Prime yourself. T will be deceitful and sly. I LOVE YOU.

_Anchorage. I am ready._

The fact that he had dropped the '_Love, E'_ closing as he got closer to Denali was not unexpected but disturbed her anyway. She disagreed that their connection would weaken him. She wanted to believe her love could only make him stronger.

When the first news came, it was fast and short:

"Edward has succeeded," said Alice, her excited whisper barely discernable through the phone. "Though not without some difficulty. Thought you might like to know." Click.

Bella made little victory jump of relief and joy, and then sank into he pillows of the Swan Study Center.

What_ difficulty? _And where was he now?

Again, she waited. The world seemed to shrink to her phone, which she kept in arm's reach at all times. She recharged it that night with the cord snaking out from under the covers. She did not dwell on the 'difficulty' and what it might be. Alice called but Bella let it go to voicemail. She didn't want predictions. She wanted to hear from Edward.

On the second day after Alice's call, Bella sat curled in an Adirondack chair on the sunny rear terrace, her phone resting like a newborn against her chest. Surely today he would pass into cell phone range.

She started to doze. Lurid images of death and sex and Edward and Tanya floated around in her head, in some Dali-esque nightmare. In it the Vanquish drove up onto the rear lawn. Edward rolled down the window, leaned across Tanya and said, "I came to say I'm sorry." It was a drive-by heartbreak.

The phone chimed and Bella nearly leapt from her chair. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. A text from Edward. Copied to Alice.

_It is done. Heading southeast now._

That's it? Nothing more? She stared at it, willing her phone to present more information. After five minutes of holding nearly vampire-still, she threw it across the lawn with a strangled yell.

As if in answer, it rang. In a shrub.

"Oh!" Bella shrieked. Clutching her surgery stitches she hobbled across the lawn and dove into the landscaping.

"Hello?"

"Bella-"

"Hello?

He was speaking but the signal was poor. "…b…h…the…on my way…"

"Edward? I can't hear you."

"…best tell you in person…let…wh…"

"Edward!"

Then just before the line went dead, a woman's came through, soft and alluring: "Wait until we get to Anchorage, you can call her ther-"

To whom was he speaking?

Bella dialled Alice's number. "WHO is in the car with him?" she shrieked.

&8&8&

"Aren't you going to drop me off first?" she whined. "We're nearly there."

"So, you can go from here," muttered Edward. "It's already dusk. Break in; the Citroën keys are in the kitchen drawer, I expect. I can't wait another minute." He made a U-turn in the street, looking for a parking place. "Alice said Bella would be at work."

"Why did she get a job at _Starbucks_?" She spoke the word with low derision, peering through the windows as they drove by at a snail's pace. "Why did she get a job at all?"

"I don't know," he snapped. He was irritable with the tension of the unknown; he was utterly desperate to see Bella's face. "Some urge for financial independence? Summer boredom? A love of coffee and corporate chains?"

"Why did she cut all her hair off?"

"_What_?" he yelped. "No, she didn't."

"I can see her. Yes, she did."

Edward growled. "I'm parking."

"I'm going."

"Good riddance." He whipped into a space, parallel-parking the Vanquish in front of the Green and Black painted rustic building.

"You don't mean that." She opened the door and got out, pulling out a small bag.

He came around to her side. "I guess not." He gave her a strained version of his lopsided smile, though his eyes were already searching through the plate glass windows. "Thank you for saving me."

"Thank you for harpooning my sister," she returned mildly, knowing it would make him wince. "It was a brilliant idea. I'm going to inscribe something momentous on the shaft, I think." She reached up and touched his shoulder. "_On this spot, in the year of our Lord 2010, Edward saved Bella, and Irina and Kate found freedom_. Except I'll write it in Italian, the diplomatic language of vampires. A bit of a message to Aro, right?"

"Hmmph," he replied, and she wondered if he was even listening. He was staring with apprehension through the window, his eyes surely following Bella.

"Are you afraid?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"You are a good man, Edward. She will come around." Now she took his face in her hands, finally getting his attention, and kissed both cheeks noisily, a proper Russian farewell. "Dos vidanya, Edward."

"Until we meet again, Irina."

8&8&8&

Bella gasped and tipped the man's Caramel macchiato all over his table. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" she cried, as the customer leapt from his chair to keep the coffee from pouring onto his lap. She chanced a glance back to the doorway. Yes, it _was_ Edward standing in the entrance, his eyes burning holes into her.

Bella dashed behind the counter to get a rag and paper towels. By the time she had restored the man's table to normal and re-served his coffee, Edward had moved to third in line. She avoided looking at him directly just yet, and instead dashed back to the counter and busied herself filling the orders as her boss, Lana, called them out. He looked beautiful in jeans and a blue chambray shirt, unbuttoned over a white tee.

"I'll have Bella Swan, to go," he said in a low, surly growl when he got to the counter.

"Huh?" said Lana, doing a double take from her cash register.

"I _need to speak with Bella_," he said this time, turning his eyes to meet Bella's. His gaze traced her body, from the black Keds and black denim skirt she wore, up to her new, chin-length flippy haircut.

Bella gave a shuddering exhalation. So far, he seemed entirely himself. She dipped her eyes, afraid to confront him just yet. She wanted to hang on to her anger. She had seen the oh-so-continental double kiss outside the window. But he was here, unharmed, as Alice said he would be. He was _here_.

"You must be _the fiancé'_," said Lana, peering at him appraisingly over her glasses. "At _last_. Mm-hmh. Well, she's busy. I need her right now."

"I need her too." He said it as if he meant it. He addressed Bella and stammered: "W-When are you finished?"

"In two hours," she said in an unintentional whisper.

He tapped his index finger on his watch. "Do you mean one hour and fifty-three minutes? At 11pm?"

"Mm-hmh," Lana answered for Bella. "Are you going to order something?" Lana indicated with her multiple chins the two customers behind Edward. She seemed to find all this very amusing.

Edward didn't. "No."

"Well, you can't loiter unless you order."

"Okay, I'll have your most complicated sandwich thing and a tall grande with a couple of shots of hazel vanilla something and a confection of some sort. You choose." His words were clipped. "Please."

"That's more like it." Lana chuckled, her fingers flying on the machine. "Bella'll fix you up right. I might even send her over with your order, if you're nice."

"I'll be nice." He pushed over a credit card.

He moved to a table and returned to staring at Bella from beneath a furrowed brow. She glanced at him furtively while she worked. She had anticipated a reaction to her haircut, a protest against her decision to take a job when she so recently had major surgery, or a demand to know why she had been so cryptic when he had finally gotten through on the phone. She had not anticipated the anguish and misery on his face; she found herself feeling sorry for him. She wanted to rush over there and dive into his arms. Instead she prepared his ridiculous order.

"Your chicken pesto Mediterranean flatbread, your coffee, and walnut buttercream cake."

His fingers were instantly around her wrist, though his grip was gentle. "This agony is unbearable," he said in a low moan. "Tell me you are still mine…or I will go mad."

She drew back. "Of course I am," she said vehemently, hot tears suddenly pricking at her eyes. "Why on earth would you think otherwise?"

He closed his eyes and released a breath. "Well, you cut your hair. You…you…" He touched the pad of his thumb to her bare, left ring finger. "You would hardly speak to me every time I called from the road. I thought maybe you decided I was a monster after all."

She swiped at a tear and gave a toss of her head: _NO_. "And what about you?"

He shook his head, clueless, his hand now capturing hers. "What _about_ me?"

"Are you still mine? You drove cross country with a succubus, with no explanation."

"That was nothing," he said flatly.

"I don't mean _do you love me_, because I know you do." She squeezed his hand. "And I am very grateful that you risked your life for my safety." She shifted on her feet, suddenly nervous to ask the question. "What I want to know is: has a succubus, dead or alive, been in your pants recently?" This was unfair, perhaps, but she wanted to hear it from him rather than from Alice. Alice hadn't seen the obsessive helplessness that Bella had witnessed in both Jake and Sven.

"Number four, Bella hon!" called Lana from the counter.

"I am yours, body and mind," he said, his molasses-black eyes earnest. "My pants have highly restricted access. Only you have been there—"

"And Consuela, in 1945."

"Okay, Consuela, yes."

"And Tanya. 1968."

"She doesn't fucking count. At all." His nostrils flared.

They stared at one another.

"Three coffees for number FOUR, ah-hemm!" sang Lana.

"Okay," said Bella, with a hitch in her voice. And just like that, her last niggling fear evaporated. "I am really happy you're home. And all mine."

"Wholly and exclusively yours." He leaned forward and kissed her hand. "In one hour and twenty six minutes I will demonstrate precisely that."

She gave him a fragile smile, and wiped away a tear again, this one of relief and joy.

You would think her last hour would drag by, but Edward now couldn't suppress his smile and she returned it even when she wasn't looking directly at him. He ordered a second sandwich and dessert, along with a to-go box, and didn't take his eyes off her for a second. Even Lana started to grin back at him.

At five minutes to eleven, Bella wiped down his table and whispered: "Meet me out back."

8&8&8&

"Bella-sweet."

"Oh, Edward. I've missed you."

They collided in a needy embrace and he pulled her up onto a pallet of boxed Starbucks supplies. The late May night was hot and humid; Edward's arms were cool and dry.

"I've been so afraid you would change your mind." He buried his face in her hair. "You'd realize that you'd seen your boyfriend dismember someone… and that you'd had a head-in-a-box on your kitchen table for a few days. If I were human, they'd have me in a maximum security psychiatric institution."

"But you're not human," she replied sensibly. "Consorting with vampires requires a certain expectation for the extreme. And some token gore. I figured that out a while back."

"You are a brave and tolerant soul, my love."

"Now kiss me, please!"

He kissed her lips, his mouth closed tight.

"Oh, wait," she giggled. She leaned back and dug into her pocket. "I ordered a new mouthguard, since the other is lost to the reservoir. I've been carrying it in my pocket for the last three days."

"Clever girl." He opened the case and fit the guards to his teeth.

They both took a breath of anticipation and dove in for a half-laughing, half-moaning, open-mouthed kiss. She gripped his shirt and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "Bella Bella Bella," he murmured, tracing kisses along her chin and throat. "I've been desperate for your arms, pining for your kisses—"

"I've missed you in our bed," she said. "I've missed your cold foot at the bottom of the covers and your bony, stony elbow on my pillow."

"Let's go home," he said in a quick breath, running his hands up her bare thighs, bunching her skirt. "To _our_ home. I need you, I need you so badly."

"I can't wait that long, _guapo_," she said. "I want you now. Right here."

He drew back. "Hey. Are you…?"

"Sorry." She laughed softly. "I'm channelling Consuela. I can't help but think of her and the warm night at the back of the _Taberna del Perro_," she said. "When you told me that story, I was so envious of her confidence and audacity. Her sexuality. I had no idea how to love you then."

"And I was afraid I could never make love to you at all! But we've found our way, haven't we?"

"Yes," she gasped, as his cold hands slipped under her Starbucks Polo shirt.

"You're not Consuela," he said firmly. He took her lovely breasts in his hands. "You are my eternal mate," he kissed the top of each breast, "my forever woman," he unhooked her bra, "my betrothed and my partner."

"Ah, but I wasn't your partner last week," she couldn't help but say. She stilled his hands with her own. "Irina stepped in and filled the bill."

"Not so!" He moved one hand to cup her face. "You were there with me, I swear it! In my heart. Infused into my very soul."

"I was?"

"Tanya tried, _oh_ she tried. You were right, Bella, her gift was far more powerful than I thought. But I held on; I held on to _you_. Even when my head told me lies, my heart – YOU – triumphed. Irina may have stepped in when I was immobilized, but you and I were a team. I promise."

"I believe you," she said, throwing her arms around his neck. "Alice told me Irina had rescued you. I was grateful but jealous."

"Only from the flames. _You_ saved me from Tanya."

"I thought of you every moment!" she declared. "I turned everyone out of the house and focused only on you. It was the only way to endure it."

"Thank you, my darling. Thank you." He kissed her in gratitude, sweeping his fingers through her hair. "Why, then? _Why_ did you cut your hair off? And get this menial job? And WHY aren't you wearing your ring? You scared me senseless when I walked in the door this evening."

"I was pissed off that you had Irina in the car with you, that every time you called me, she was there. You wouldn't even take _me_ with you to Alaska! And I worried…I worried she would simply try to step in her sister's shoes, no matter how many times Alice dismissed it."

"_Oh_. I hadn't thought of that. She doesn't even like me."

"She likes your body, though," said Bella promptly. "Anyway, I rebelled. I cut my hair, I got a barista-in-training position. It's not menial, really." She squeezed her eyes shut, slightly embarrassed. "I organized all your financial papers and your sheet music. All the stuff you don't want me to do. I'm sorry – it was really childish. Oh, and Starbucks' milk powder was getting in between the stones of the ring. So I don't wear it to work."

"My sheet music?" His eyes bugged a little. "Alphabetical or by era?"

Bella laughed and pulled him close again. "Yeah, you can mess it all up again when we get home."

"Not yet. We are alone, _mi corazon. _And if you will stop mentioning other, far lesser women, I would like to make love to you. Here, on a box of Starbucks coffee stirrers." He inched his hands toward their former position, a breast in each palm.

She smiled and pressed his hands against her. "No Bjurssen? No scarf? Are you sure?"

"I am ready for you, for all of you." He worshipped her breasts with his tongue for a moment, then whipped the offensive shirt over her head. "There is no one around," he reassured her in a husky tone, removing her cotton bra from her shoulders.

She was half-naked in the back of a Starbucks, but she was so happy she didn't care. Edward pulled her hips to the edge of the box and opened her knees wide. He looked down and ran a single finger slowly up her thigh, until it disappeared under her skirt. He glanced over her femoral artery with his fingertip but felt no bloodlust.

She clung to his arms and watched. "Please," she whispered, when his fingers brushed over her sex. "Beneath," she said, meaning her underwear.

"These are plain cotton," he observed, one eyebrow up.

"Another rebellion," Bella laughed sheepishly. He had outfitted her with weeks-worth of sexy undergarments. This pair was pre-Road trip. Sensible, no-ride-up Hanes.

"Lie back on your elbows," he said. She complied and heard the tear of the fabric. "You won't wear _those_ again," he said with mock severity. He tossed them over his shoulder.

She began to laugh but then he lifted her hips and put his mouth on her.

She squealed and put her hand on his head. "Nooo, I want to kiss you. You'll taste like my…ew, nooo."

He raised his head from between her legs. "Not as audacious as you thought, huh?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I am too. I am a woman now. Practically a sophomore."

Edward placed his thumb lightly on her clitoris, like a promise. "You won't regret it," he said in the most velvety persuasion she had heard yet.

"Yes, then," she capitulated and closed her eyes.

She did not regret it. He did not torture her with slow licks and gentle sucks; he dove in with enthusiasm. He had to stop and shush her briefly, or risk alerting some late night passersby out on the road.

"Finish!" she begged, pushing his head down again. She ground her teeth together in order to keep from hollering out when she came. And come she did, rocking the cardboard box precariously.

It took only a second for Edward to unbutton his jeans and drop his pants. She was still trembling when he asked permission in a rough cry: "May I?"

"Yes, go!"

He held her hips off the box and impaled her in one sure stroke. "Oh God, I've missed this," he said roughly. He began to move, sliding in and out – or rather, moving her to meet him. She held onto the box, but as his thrusts became more vigorous, they risked toppling her over. "Edward!" she warned.

"Fuck!" he swore, laughing. He picked her up entirely, still inside her trembling, sweaty body. He waddled over – carefully, as his jeans and boxers were gathered around his ankles – and pressed her against a tall, wire framed crate.

She hooked her fingers in the wire. "Go to it," she urged.

He was strong; he did not tire. He held onto her ass and moved them together as smoothly as he played the piano. He kissed her too, his tongue thrusting along with his hips, or bending to catch her nipple in his mouth. The taste of her own sex was not as weird as she'd thought it would be. He did not last long, however and he came with a cry of "Bella-sweet!"

&8&8&8&

There was an assemblage of beautiful women and beautiful cars in their driveway. The two blondes were pointing at a map, spread out on the hood of the Citroën, and arguing in a playful banter. The pixie-like vampire that flitted around them was frustrated, her good nature tested for once. They were goading her, just a little.

"Bad idea, _bad_ idea," Alice was saying to the sisters as Bella and Edward got out of the Vanquish.

"Bella!" squealed Kate and Alice, both running up to give her a girly group hug. _How are you feeling, you look too thin, is that Edward's shirt, you smell like coffee beans and sex. _They bombarded her with affection. Edward looked on, half-feigning a scandalized disapproval.

Bella recoiled at first, glancing over at Edward. "Kate! I thought…what about…the head…I thought you'd be angry."

"Pfft!" exclaimed Alice, crossing her arms over her chest indignantly. "It seems Kate has been taking us for a ride. She was distracting me, not the other way around!"

"What?"

"Edward can enlightify you, _mon amie,_" said Kate, waving her hand. "Anyway, Irina and I are taking the Citroën back across the country. We were just planning our route, and Alice was trying to discourage our agenda!" She widened her eyes innocently.

Kate turned to Alice. "Just tell me which route has men with the biggest…ah – " she glanced at Edward, "_members_."

"I _refuse_ to envision that." She shot Bella a stern look. "This is partially your fault, you know. Alerting them to these mouthguard contraptions."

Irina grinned and pulled a mouthguard case out of her pocket, waving it around. "It's our Summer Tour of Fellatio 2010."

"Oh my," said Bella, mortified. "That's…that's really gross."

"Oh, we're very picky." Irina's grin was positively feral.

"God, I do _not_ want to hear this." Edward ran his palm over his face. "I'm going inside."

"Wait," said Bella. She stepped forward and offered her hand to Irina. "Thank you. You saved Edward."

Irina stepped forward and shook Bella's hand. "I couldn't have even attempted Tanya's execution without his initiative. And you gave him plenty of initiative. You must be quite an extraordinary human." She looked Bella up and down, with a mixture of respect, curiosity and doubt. "Because Edward is quite an extraordinary vampire."

"I know." Bella sighed, feeling rather happy. "You guys have fun on your trip."

"We will!" squealed Kate. She ran up and gave everyone one more round of hugs and two-cheek kisses. "Thanks, Alice darling, for the extended shopping trip."

"Hmpph," said Alice, grumpily.

"Just a teeny-peeny tip?" Kate asked one more time, holding her finger and thumb close together.

"It's '_teensy-weesny'_." Alice laughed. "Okay, okay. Everything is bigger in Texas. Just saying."

"_Really_," cooed Kate. "I guess you would know." She waggled her blonde brows.

Irina cheered and whooped. "Sounds mighty good, y'all!" she cackled, removing the map from the car with a flourish.

In under a minute the Citroën had disappeared down the road.

"Well," said Bella dryly. "They seem really broken up over Tanya's demise."

"Hah!" said Alice. "Apparently they've wanted it for _years_. Once they met Mr. Mind-reader here, they were afraid Tanya would mate him, then he'd reveal their disloyalty. So they were resigned to sit tight; they agreed to put it out of their heads. Quite successfully…true, Edward?"

He nodded. "I picked up their resentment, but never the desire to get rid of her."

"So why didn't Kate just let Edward finish off Tanya at the house?" asked Bella. "Why all this fuss about protecting her head?"

"It would be a bad precedent, for a succubus to be killed by a man who rejected her. They were worried it would diminish their reputation." Alice rolled her eyes. "The legend says that no man can reject them – that it's impossible."

"Kate could have done it herself," Bella pointed out, "while _pretending_ to go to the Pack 'n Mail."

"Yes," said Edward, "but she wanted Irina's collusion. They hadn't discussed it in forty years – how did she know Irina hadn't changed her mind?"

"I can't believe I didn't see through that one," muttered Alice. "Kate made the phone call to Irina just after you passed out of cell phone range! She said '_the head will be there unprotected… hurry'_. It was an ambiguous hint! Then it was too late to inform Edward."

"Irina made her decision at the last minute," recounted Edward. "First she had to see if the fight was going in my favour."

Bella threw her arms around his waist, so grateful he was still hers. "If not, she would have pretended to take Tanya's side?"

"Exactly. Self-preservation and deception are ready instincts," said Alice. "Typical vampire, really."

"And I just thanked her for saving you! _Vampires_," she groused, scowling.

"Vampires," Edward agreed in the same rueful tone. He pulled her in her close, pressing his cheek to hers. "You know, I almost changed you – so many times when you were unconscious. I am _so_ relieved not to have to make that choice without your permission. You are spleen-less, but with all your faculties. I was ready to abandon all principle for your safety, your health, your bright-eyed intelligence." A shadow passed over his face. "I did abandon my ideals, I suppose, when I killed Tanya in cold blood."

"No," she disagreed, leaning back and taking his chin in her hand. "Your ideals are intact. You simply have gumption, Edward. Mettle. Fortitude. _Balls_." She kissed him, hard.

"Ah…I think I'm going to head out," said Alice loudly.

"Oh!" said Bella, turning her head to rest it on Edward's chest. "Sorry, did you want to come in?"

"_Bella_," said Edward, soft and low in her ear. He had promised her skin-to-skin contact in their bed, no Bjurssen, thigh-high stockings, padded gloves nor scarves necessary.

She shivered.

"Jasper and I haven't been alone in _weeks_," said Alice, smiling. "But thanks anyway." She stepped forward and gave her brother a one-armed hug. "So glad you're in one piece. And still you."

"Thanks, Alice." He hugged her back, one armed, as he still held onto Bella.

Alice kissed Bella's cheek. "You're part of the family, you know, even when you reject us." She touched the turned-up ends of Bella's hair. "You're going to keep it short," she predicted.

Bella snorted. "Okay, just because you said that, I'm _not_."

Edward chuckled and feigned a secretive thumbs-up.

Edward and Bella stood on the drive, her back to his front, and waved until the yellow Porsche was out of sight.

"I love you," he murmured, bending to kiss her ear.

"I love you," she returned, turning around in his arms.

"To bed," they both said at once.

Holding on to one another, they backed through the kitchen (shedding shirts), they shuffled around the pillows of the Swan Study Centre (shedding shoes, skirts and pants) and they swayed their way into the bedroom (shedding anything that remained).

Skin to skin, with no barriers, they made love.

&8&8&

**Just the epilogue now! My apologies for scaring some of you with my HEA comment. I wouldn't do that to you after you've come back month after slow-posted month! This is an HEA story for sure.**

**If you've never reviewed before, it's time you did. Even a 'I enjoyed this' will do. Concrit always welcome. And a huge THANKS to those who review each time even when I don't respond. You bring joy to a closeted author!**

**PS I have no idea if someone who had major surgery would be allowed to have sex within three weeks. **


	36. Chapter 36: Epilogue

Epilogue:

**Three years later.**

"Close your eyes. I have a present."

Edward closed them. Bella climbed onto the bed and sat cross-legged, her knees to his knees. It was six am and their houseguests were asleep (the vampires only pretending to be asleep, for appearance's sake).

She placed a leather-and-linen notebook in his hands, tied up with a raffia bow. "Okay, you can look."

"Mm, intriguing." He turned it over. "And beautifully bound. Your writing I presume."

Bella nodded, hunching up her shoulders.

"I am delighted, my love, thank you." He leaned forward to give her a quick kiss on the lips.

She closed her eyes momentarily. "You don't know what's written in it yet." .

"True." He raised his eyebrows; her nervousness aroused his curiosity. "Is this a wedding gift or a graduation gift?"

"Both."

He took the end of the bow in his fingers. "Shall I read it now or after the ceremony? Ceremo_nies_, I should say."

They had decided to combine the two events into one busy week. Charlie and Sue would only have to fly out once. Esme had naturally wanted the wedding in Forks, Alice had hoped for a glamorous New York wedding and Renee had lobbied for a sunny Florida beach party (impossible of course). Bella and Edward had declined all three.

Hanover had been their home, the place where their relationship had matured from a giddy fairytale to an enduring partnership, and therefore the most meaningful place for their official union. Their college friends could affordably attend, too – which by now numbered around a dozen, mostly from the English Department, but with a few good friends representing the Physical Therapy School, too.

Freja, now a strict teetotaller, was driving out from Madison, accompanied by her new University of Wisconsin boyfriend. Bella was looking forward to her reunion with her friend, as their friendship had been conducted online ever since the day Freja had departed in her Volkswagen with Jake in tow.

Jake was attending too, but with Alison, a girl from a British Columbian Chinook tribe who reportedly guessed his lupine affliction after their first month together. Alison was his third declaration as the 'true' imprint. Freja had been his second, but after he had helped her fight her alcoholic urges, he had found that he didn't like her sober persona as much as her tipsy one. This was fine with Freja; she and her Wisconsin family were too inquisitive to tolerate his constant, melodramatic secrecy. The odd couple had lasted six months, with Jacob's 'imprint' ending the day he decided to apply to Peninsula Community College, Port Angeles. Edward had wryly commented that Jacob's imprinting was more like an Etch a Sketch: shake it once and it was gone.

Early this morning, Bella, cognizant of a houseful of guests and the events of the coming two days, hadn't been able to sleep. She and Edward had gone for a quiet morning swim and now sat on the bed in matching terry robes (DKNY, thick and soft, a shower gift from Alice), while Bella combed her out her wet hair and Edward read _The New York Times_ in the pale morning light. Restless and anxious for his response, Bella had suddenly leapt from the bed and had fished out the booklet from her bottom drawer.

Now he sat patiently, knee to knee with Bella, his thumb on the corner of her precious, carefully constructed work.

"Okay, God, you can read it now – NO, wait. No, I don't know!" she wailed softly, curling her fingers against his knees. "I want you to like it."

"You've let me read all your assignments so far," he reminded her, amused and now terribly, terribly curious. "Both fiction and non. Old Prufrock is the far more exacting critic."

"This is fictionalized non-fiction. Like a BBC documentary, with some re-enactments."

"Okay. I'm opening it now…" he warned.

"I'll be in the bathroom!" she cried, leaping up.

But suddenly she was sideways atop his lap, locked firmly in his embrace, with the book held in front of them. Slowly, he pulled on the raffia tie. She shrieked and giggled, unable to squirm away.

"_An Abridged Account of the history of Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, as told to Bella Swan_," he read the title page. He let that sink in for a moment. "Really?"

"Yeah, _really_," she said nervously, curled against the cradle of his body. "It's about you."

"But…" He resisted turning the page, both pleased and embarrassed. "I haven't exactly accomplished anything to write about. _He tracked a deer, he read a book, he played a song. _ It's all in my journals."

"Your journals," she said, laying her head against his shoulder, "are full of severe self-criticism. And you left out whole decades. The fifties and the seventies."

"That's because my life was a yawning, colorless tedium. It lacked you." He turned his head and gave her a sweet, lingering kiss.

"I disagree," she tried to protest, though it came out more like a breathy moan. She kissed him back, until she began to feel his erection stirring against her. They opened their eyes and pulled back, having agreed to a two day abstinence pact while her parents were staying with them. Edward gave a resigned sigh and turned his attention back to the notebook.

Bella cleared her throat. "You've had an amazing life, and it should be recorded for posterity. Even if humans can't ever read it."

"Hm." He moved her off his lap, but still kept her prisoner in the circle of his arms. He let it fall open to a random page.

"I left the back side of each page blank, in case you wanted to make corrections to my interpretation of events. You can cross parts out if you disagree…" She trailed off, afraid to look at him while he read.

"You know," she continued, "all those road rally races with Rosalie? And your disturbing encounters with released Gulag prisoners in 1950's USSR? What about you and Emmett in Hiroshima after the destruction? It's all far more interesting than Pepys' Diaries."

She was babbling now. She lifted her chin to look at him; his eyes ran back and forth speedily over her writing, his mouth slightly open. He flipped to another page, his eyes riveted to her handwritten text.

"Say something," she begged, squirming on his lap. "Are you upset?"

"Uh, no…flabbergasted, maybe," he murmured. "You've recalled an astonishing amount of detail. Pepys, by the way, was a self-centered philanderer." Edward reclined against the pillows, the notebook held aloft and started back at the beginning. She slipped quietly from his arms and scooted back to the end of the bed, as if giving him some privacy to read about his own life.

She picked up the _Times_ and opened it, attempting to read, but really she was watching him. His robe was carelessly open, except where it caught on his half-mast erection, and she let her eyes roam over the pale Adonis in her bed. He was her virile and attentive lover, her intelligent and unconventional vampire. In less than forty eight hours, he would be her husband.

Bella smiled to herself. He was, she felt sure, a future legend, whether he ruled the Volturi or not. Whether she accompanied him through eternity or not. Such an extraordinary man should be represented in words, she had decided in the last year of her degree. So she had begun a frank account of his tales, including the stories of Consuela and Miss Harrow. Tanya's destruction she had pieced together from what Irina had told her and the occasional, sober reference to the event from Edward. She had written it all in the library, or scribbled hurriedly when he hunted, or more carefully when she spent the rare week or two away from him over the summers.

In recent years he had slowly and fully revealed himself, sometimes through his stories of the past, which he would recount either in the darkness of their bedroom or while they lay spent in each other's arms among the grasses of their New Hampshire meadow. Sometimes he was ashamed and sometimes he was scathing of his past behaviour, but always he was honest. She found courage and honor in his conduct, but also naïveté and an impractical pride. She loved him, oh she loved him! When she stated her vows tomorrow, she would also vow – to herself and to God – to be worthy of him.

He chuckled at some passage he was reading and she looked up. 'Is it okay?" she asked.

"I can tell that you love me," he replied dryly, his eyes never leaving the page. "But, despite that particular influence, it's…" He paused and shook his head in wonder, "It's brilliant."

&8&8

Alice blocked Edward from the moment she arrived in Hanover. All through the commencement speeches, through the photos in the Quad, through the mockery of consuming cake and coffee with the Swan and Dwyer humans back at Starbucks, she managed a stream of useless information. An impenetrable self-discipline! She smiled and chatted with all, but Edward noted a repressed emotion around his sister's eyes. Worse, Jasper was at her side, demonstrating a husbandly comfort, and Edward was going to demand to know what she was hiding the minute they got back to the house.

He didn't have to wait. Alice was standing beside the Vanquish when Bella emerged from the passenger side. "You have mail," she said, taking Bella's hand and squeezing it.

Bella turned to Edward and gasped. The stared at one another over the roof of the Vanquish. "So soon," she whispered.

"Something wrong?" said Charlie, shutting the door of his rental car and taking in Bella and Edward's expressions.

"Not at all," said Edward smoothly. "We were just wondering if we'd hear from Mr. Singleton today."

"Singleton?"

"_The_ _Denver Post_, Dad," said Bella breathlessly. "My job interview." She shrugged. "My only job interview."

"Bells. Don't beat yourself up. There's a recession ongoing, and well… you majored in, heh, _English Literature_. So, it's pretty good you even got one interview that involves actual writing." He shoved his hands in his pockets, while Sue put a quelling hand on his shoulder. He was trying to be helpful, Bella knew, but at the moment she couldn't even acknowledge his comment. Her eyes were locked with Edward's.

Charlie was unaware of the momentous decision that rested upon the letter now sitting in the mailbox. A decision of life or death. Of immortality now or immortality later.

Bella and Edward had wrangled over the decision for the past year. If she were changed now, would she appear old enough to have a career? (One of Edward's bitterest complaints about appearing seventeen was the lack of respect from colleagues in any profession he pursued.) Writing Edward's history down had compelled a new perspective on his immortality. She both desired and rejected vampirism; she was both horrified and inspired by his past.

Did Bella want a baby? She declared up and down that the answer was _no_. If the child wasn't Edward's, then she could live without one, she'd said. Edward was less certain she wouldn't change her mind. They debated and gathered opinions from Alice, Esme, Carlisle, Rosalie and even Kate.

All the while, Carlisle had kept his ear to the ground, attuned to any rumours that might reach the Volturi. They'd heard of Tanya's death by now, and the inscription on the harpoon. Aro thought it a charming and daring love story, and seemed to forget to even ask if Bella had been changed. Carlisle felt he owed Edward some recompense; he lied and persuaded and redirected his former comrade convincingly enough—for now.

Unable to make a decision, Bella and Edward briefly considered leaving it to the chaos of fate. They would balance their decision upon something random and uncontrollable, they proposed. A horse race. They would flip a coin. They would ask a stranger 'now' or 'later' and see which word came first from his mouth.

But Edward couldn't bring himself to agree. To rest Bella's mortality upon such cold and disinterested banality was an insult to the sanctity of life.

In April of their final year, not long after a passing visit from Kate, Bella had submitted an opinion piece on women in higher education in Russia to _The Dartmouth_ (America's oldest college newspaper). Published, it generated some controversy, including a testy exchange of communication from a Dartmouth alum in Colorado. That alum turned out to be a newspaper magnate, who declared he wanted Bella on his _Denver Post_, a paper with the tenth highest circulation in the United States. Bella had interviewed just two weeks ago and thought the job unobtainable. It was mostly fiction she had submitted as examples, not non-fiction, and certainly not anything that could be called 'journalistic reporting'.

Edward was more optimistic. He had lingered in the shade of the building, pacing, worried that her nerves would mask a true representation of her able mind. He eavesdropped and was placated by the editor's unspoken opinion, though the man had not made a decision there and then. Afterwards, Bella had insisted upon checking out every Physical Therapy facility in the city. It was time, she had persuaded, that Edward tried actual employment again.

That night, over mushroom ravioli in a downtown Denver Italian restaurant, they agreed. It was James Stapleton, editor of _The Denver Post_, who would decide her fate. If she got the job, she would stay human for a few more years. If she didn't get the job, they would make her immortal.

Now, standing in the driveway, Alice's mind told Edward it was indeed a letter from Stapleton sitting in their little classic aluminium post box. What was inside the letter, Alice blocked with some highly irritating boy band song.

"Shall I get the mail?" asked Jasper, when no one moved or spoke for almost a minute.

"Yeah," said Bella, raising her chin. "Get the mail."

They all gathered around the hood of the Vanquish, once Jasper had brought the mail up the walk.

"Oh look, you might have won a million dollars," said Emmett, pushing the pile around with his giant fingers. Only Renee and Phil laughed, and Rosalie gave Emmett a little flick on the arm. They all _stared_ at the innocuous letter, with _The_ _Denver Post_ logo printed in the corner.

"You gonna open the thing or what?" said Charlie curtly, suddenly as nervous as anyone else. Sue guessed what was going on; Edward saw the moment the penny dropped In her mind. Sue was glad Jake wasn't going to arrive for several more hours.

"Courage, my Bella-sweet," said Edward softly. He smiled at her, trying to convey all his love and support in his eyes. She raised her eyes and smiled back. She looked around her, at all the beautiful, capable, immortal Cullens. At her vulnerable human parents, whom she might have to leave soon forever.

With a little laugh (or was it a sob?), she grabbed it, ripped it open and unfolded the letter. "I'm…I'm in," she said, after reading the first line. She looked up at Edward again. "I'm in! I got the job. We're moving to Denver."

The celebrations, along with a few tears, went on well into the night.

8&8&8&

The following afternoon, Bella and Edward joined hands and stood before God, friends and family, with optimism and love in their hearts and minds. They spoke traditional vows aloud, but made further vows in their minds, ones they had shared spontaneously with one another in the sanctuary of their soundproof bedroom, in each other's arms in the wee hours the night before.

"_My dearest Isabella Marie Swan," he'd said, his palms cupping her face. "To this marriage, I bring you my past, my history, my wisdom and my foolishness. My protection and support, my lust and bloodlust. I bring my faults and my talents, those that are intrinsically mine and those bestowed upon me by the fate of my condition. I declare my unswerving devotion to your well being and happiness, at whatever cost to myself. I love you, now and forever."_

"_My dear Edward Anthony Masen Cullen," she'd replied. "I give you my future, all of it, no matter how short or how long. I bring you what I am, my human weaknesses and my human strengths, and what I will become, as your immortal mate. I devote my mind, heart and body to you, to your happiness and contentment, unselfishly without reservation. I love you, now and forever."_

"Now kiss me, my darling. We are joy itself!"

The End.

**So what happens next for our AU couple? Well, there are two followup stories.**

**I'll tell you the plots because it is likely that I'll never find the time to write them. In the first, they keep postponing the change and a 30 year old Bella uses the blood on the cloth from the Chicago hospital ( see Chapter _) to try and extract some of Edward's DNA, in order to have his baby. A handsome NY Columbia University scientist and a band of vampire 'followers' (who admire Edward's devotion to a human) make trouble. I'll probably post the first two chapters as a one shot thingy.**

**The second begins with 'My Dad is a Legend', where Edward is alone, a few decades later. A nomadic vampire shows up at his cabin (Oh, it's Bella, _surprise_) and the story of her kidnapping and turning by the Volturi and Edward's tragic, failed attempts to save her are told in flashback. He has to win back her love, as she doesn't even remember who he (or her now-grown, human child) is. **

**Again, unlikely I'll get this one out. If I do, I'll write the damn thing first, then post weekly. **

**Thanks for reading everyone. Thanks for even going beyond the second chapter, when it looked like it was just a flashback story of Edward's history and a bunch of original characters. I'll probably go back and fix all errors (all my fault, never my betas', btw) and repost on A Different Forest. I might take out the paintball glove scenes, as I lose more readers on that chapter than any other. Should I take it out? I would be happy to hear your opinion.**

**Thank you to my betas and supporters who have stuck with me for so long. Thanks to LIttlechoo, and Kristie and Antebellum of PTB. Thanks to BelleDean for stepping in as beta for the last several chapters. Thanks to you fabulous reviewers, particularly those who review often and with detail – you make me sing! **


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